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THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


" 'i.o    -rncir   i  iki  wisi'   siiait   i'.I'    kfxc,' " — Pir^r  2'^0 


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Copyright,  1912,  by 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company 


AH  rtghtz  reserved 


Printed  m  the  United  States  of  America 


1996 


INTRODUCTION 


THE  stories  sketched  herein  are  for  the  most  part  founded 
on  Tennyson's  "  Idylls  of  the  King."  The  aim  of  the 
writer  has  been  to  put  the  subject  matter  of  the  "  Idylls  " 
into  readable  form  for  young  readers, —  to  lay  a  foundation,  as 
it  were,  for  Tennyson's  tales.  They  are  stories  of  "  noble 
chivalry,  courtesy,  humanity,  friendliness,  hardiness,  love,  friend- 
ship, cowardice,  murder,  hate,  virtue,  and  sin." 

Before  reading  these  tales  the  young  reader  should  know  that 
King  Arthur  was  a  good  and  wise  king  who  ruled  over  parts  of 
England  in  the  sixth  century.  In  those  days  England  was  divided 
into  a  number  of  petty  kingdoms,  each  ruled  by  its  own  king,  and 
Arthur  was  the  wisest  and  best  of  these  rulers.  Indeed,  so  great 
was  he,  that  he  conquered  a  large  number  of  his  neighbor  kings, 
and  finally  came  to  be  the  ruler  of  all  Western,  or  Celtic  England. 
He  was  so  chivalrous  and  kind,  so  wise  and  just,  that  people  every- 
where sang  his  praises.  Story  after  story  about  him  was  handed 
down  from  one  generation  to  another,  until,  even  before  print- 
ing came  into  use,  writers  of  many  lands  took  him  for  the  highest 
type  of  chivalrous  gentleman.  He  was  made  to  stand  for  all  that 
was  good  and  pure  in  life,  and  his  name  became  a  household  watch- 
word. 

A  writer  named  Mallory  gathered  the  Arthur  stories  together 
and  had  them  published  in  one  bock.  He  called  his  work  "  Morte 
d'Arthur."  Tennyson  got  much  of  the  material  for  his  "  Idylls  " 
from  Mallory,  but  each  author  added  to  the  original  records  to 
suit  his  own  fancy.  Thus,  Arthur  really  reigned  in  the  sixth 
century,  but  Maiiory  put  him  into  a  setting  of  feudal  chivalry  and 
knighthood  at  its  highest  flower,  which  was  actually  reached  in  the 
twelfth  century,  Tennyson  went  farther  and  put  In  conversation 
and  happenings  of  his  own  day  and  age.     Therefore,  while  the 


n 


INTRODUCTION 


story  of  Arthur  Is  beautiful  and  inspiring,  it  is  not  exactly  true  to 
his  time.  But  this  fact  does  not  in  any  way  affect  the  interest  of 
the  tale. 

The  traveler  over  Great  Britain  finds  everywhere  mementos 
of  Arthur.  From  "  Arthur's  Seat "  at  Edinburgh  to  "  Arthur's 
Castle  of  Tintagil  "  in  Cornwall,  his  name  Is  In  the  air.  Win- 
chester claims  to  have  been  the  seat  of  Arthur's  royal  palace  — 
the  city  spoken  of  in  the  tales  as  Camelot.  Bamborough  Castle  in 
Northumberland  boasts  of  having  been  "  Joyous  Gard,"  the  home 
of  Lancelot,  Arthur's  best-loved  knight;  while  Guilford  In  Surrey 
is  said  to  have  been  the  home  of  "  the  lily  maid  of  Astolat,"  who 
died  for  love  of  Lancelot.  Devonshire  is  known  as  the  home  of 
Geraint,  one  of  Arthur's  strong  knights,  and  Glastonbury  is  the 
traditional  "  island-valley  of  Avalon  "  whither  Arthur  passed  at 
the  close  of  the  tales.  It  was  to  Glastonbury,  we  are  told,  that 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  conveyed  the  Holy  Grail  after  the  Saviour's 
death,  and  there  the  Feast  of  the  Pentecost  was  always  faithfully 
observed  by  Arthur  and  his  knights. 

Tennyson  uses  his  "  Idylls  "  to  point  a  moral.  In  some  respects 
he  makes  them  a  tale  of  "  Paradise  Lost."  In  the  beginning,  he 
shows  us  Arthur's  kingdom  —  a  creation  bright  and  fair,  perfect 
in  every  way.  The  blight  of  sin,  however,  creeps  in  at  last  and 
gradually  spreads  corruption,  until  all  ends  In  what  seems  to  be 
defeat  and  failure;  but  through  the  clouds  we  can  see  the  sun  shin- 
ing, and  we  feel  that  Arthur's  life  has  not  been  lived  In  vain.  We 
do  not  deal  with  the  moral  in  our  rendering  of  the  stories.  We 
give  them  for  their  pictures  of  chivalrous  times,  for  their  beauty 
of  thought  and  action,  and  for  their  portrayal  of  right,  truth,  and 
might  conquering  over  wrong.  It  Is  our  hope  that  young  readers 
will  profit  from  acquaintance  with  the  brave,  and  courteous  knights, 
and  the  pure,  true,  beautiful  ladles  around  whom  the  tales  are 
woven,  and  be  led  to  realize  the  truth  of  the  saying:  "  Do  after 
the  good,  and  leave  the  evil,  and  It  shall  bring  you  to  good  fame 
and  renown." 


I 


CONTENTS 

THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

_  PAGE 

Introduction y 

CHAPTER 

I  How  Arthur  Came  to  be  King  ...          .  i 

II  The  Founding  of  the  Round  Table    .     .     .  io 

III  Arthur's  Be^t  Friend 20 

IV  The  Marriage  of  Arthur 31 

V  Arthur's  Enemies  AT  Court 39 

VI  Gareth  of  Orkney 49 

VII  The  Story  of  Geraint  and  Emd    ....    75 

VIII  The  Lily  Maid  of  Astolat 103 

IX  The  Search  for  the  Holy  Grail    .     .     .     .132 

X  Guinevere 147 

XI  The  Passing  of  Arthur 162 

IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

Dedication 175 

The  Coming  of  Arthur 176 

The  RouNi'  Table 

Gareth  and  Lynette 187 

The  Marriage  of  Gfraixt 217 

Geraint  AND  Enid 235 

vii 


viii  COr^IENTS 

PAC« 

Balin  and  Balan 256 

Merlin  and  Vivien         269 

Lancelot  and  Elaine 289 

The  Holy  Grail .319 

PELLEAS  and  ETTARRE 339 

The  Last  Tournament 351 

Guinevere 368 

The  Passing  of  Arthur 382 

To  the  Queen 392 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  '  lo,  thou  likewise  shalt  be  king  '  "     . 
"  For  two  hours  more  they  fought" 

Here  by  oou's  rood  is  the  one  maid  for  me  '  " 
"'Yea,  little  maid,  for  am  i  not  forgiven?'" 


F,  on  I  is  piece 


FACING    FAiiE 
.  26 


226 

382 


THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THK  KING 


CHAPTER  1 


HOW   ARTHUR   CAME   TO    BE   KING 

KING   UTHER    Pendragon    lay    dying.     He   was   sore    at 
heart  and  sadly  troubled.      His  spirit  could  not  bear  to 
leave    the    earth,    for    he    had    no    heir    to    succeed    him. 
Loudly  did  he  mourn,  and  all  his  attendants  were  filled  with  pity. 
Merlin,  the  great  wi/.ard,  and  his  master  Bleys  were  sent  for,  and 
tried  in  vain  to  comfort  him. 

At  last  the  two  wise  men  went  out  from  the  King's  presence, 
and  paced  along  the  shore  beside  the  sea.  They  were  sad  and 
troubled,  for  they  could  think  of  no  way  In  which  their  ma[,ic  might 
help  their  beloved  King.  It  was  night  —  a  dismal  night,  "in 
which  the  bounds  of  Heaven  and  earth  seemed  lost."  Suddenly, 
from  out  the  blackness,  a  dragon-winged  ship  loomed  up  at  sea. 
Bright  and  all  shining  she  was,  and  there  were  many  people  on  her 
decks.  B.  .  only  a  glimpse  the  two  wise  men  had  ere  she  passed 
from  sight.  Then  master  and  pupil  stood  silently  watching  the 
great  waves  ri.  :  and  fall.  Wave  after  wave  came  in,  each  mightier 
than  the  kst,  until  finally  the  ninth  one,  "  gathering  half  the  deep 
and  full  of  voices,  slowly  rose  and  plunged  roaring,  and  all  the  wave 
was  in  a  flame,  and  down  the  wave  and  in  the  flame  was  borne  a 
naked  babe,  that  rode  to  Merlin's  feet." 

Quickly  the  old  wizard  caught  up  the  child.  "  The  King!  "  he 
cried.     "  Here  is  an  heir  for  Uther!  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  fringe  of  the  great  breaker,  swooping  up  the 
strand,  lashed  at  him  and  rose  all  around  him  in  fire,  so  that  he  and 

I 


THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KLNG 


the  child  were  clothed  in  flame.      Then  the  fire  died  down,  a  peace- 
ful calm  fell,  and  stars  and  sky  were  bright  anil  clear. 

Straij^htway  Merlin  ami  Bl"ys  hurrlcil  to  the  castle,  and  great 
was  the  rejoicing  when  the  glad  tidings  were  home  throughout  the 
court  that  an  heir  had  been  given  to  L'ther  from  the  deep  sea.  The 
old  King  was  glad  and  happy  indeed,  and  his  spirit  passed  from 
his  body  in  peace.  But  he  did  not  die  until  he  had  blessed  the 
child  and  commanded  two  knights  and  two  ladies  to  take  it, 
wrapped  in  cloth-of-gold,  and  deliver  it  to  a  poor  man  they  would 
find  waiting  at  the  outer  gates  of  the  castle.  The  wise  old  King 
knew  that  when  he  was  dead  the  babe's  life  would  be  in  danger, 
antl  that  many  of  his  wicked,  unscrupulous  nobles  would  try  to  take 
the  throne. 

Now  the  old  man  at  the  gate  was  Merlin  in  disguise,  but  the 
knights  and  ladies  knew  it  not.  He  bore  the  babe  secretly  away, 
and  carried  him  to  Sir  ,\nton,  an  old  friend  of  King  Uther's.  The 
good  knight  had  the  child  christened  by  a  holy  priest,  naming  him 
Arthur.  Then  his  wife  took  the  babe  and  nursed  him  and  reared 
him  with  her  own  children. 

Great  was  the  speculation  at  court  as  to  where  the  child  had 
gone,  and  strife  and  trouble  arose  among  the  more  powerful  nobles 
as  to  who  should  rule  in  King  Uther's  stead.  But  Merlin  charged 
them,  saying: 

"Hive  heed  what  ye  do.  The  child  is  not  dead.  God  will 
have  His  will;  in  His  own  good  time  He  will  bring  forth  Uther's 
heir  and  crown  him  King.  And  Uther's  heir  shall  be  greatest  of 
all  great  kings;  all  his  enemies  shall  fall  before  him.  And  be- 
fore he  dies  he  shall  long  have  been  King  of  all  England,  and 
have  under  his  rule  Wales,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  and  more  king- 
doms than  are  now  known." 

The  petty  kings  and  nobles  marveled  at  what  Merlin  said, 
and  though  they  scoffed  at  him  in  secret,  they  dared  not  take  the 
throne,  for  well  they  knew  the  wisdom  of  his  prophecies.  And  for 
many   years   there    were   wrangling   and   bloodshed   in    the    land. 


HOW  ARTHUR  CAME  TO  BH  KING 


Knaves  and  cutthroats  went  their  way  undisturbed,  and  the  country 
sank  into  decay.  Wild  men  and  people  from  over  the  sea  plun- 
dered and  laid  waste  the  borderlands,  and  Terror  rode  barebacked 
over  the  hills  and  throujjh  the  dales.  At  last  Merlin  went  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  told  him  to  make  known  to  all  tho 
lords  of  the  realm,  and  to  all  the  gentlemen  of  arms,  that  if  they 
would  come  to  London  at  Christmas  time,  a  miracle  would  be  shown 
to  them,  revealing  vvho  wa<!  to  be  their  King.  Of  course  all  the 
lords  and  gentlemen  were  eager  to  know  who  this  might  be,  and 
long  before  dawn  on  Christmas  Day  the  great  church  in  London 
was  packed  with  hopeful  guests,  who  waited  anxiously  for  the  hour 
of  prayer,  after  which  the  miracle  was  to  be  made  known. 

When  all  had  been  permitted  to  file  into  the  churchyard,  there 
was  seen  a  large,  square  marble  block,  having  in  its  midst  an  anvil 
all  of  steel.  In  the  anvil  was  stuck  a  beautiful  svord,  with  naked 
blade.  And  on  the  sword  were  letterings  and  markings  of  gold, 
which,  being  interpreted,  read: 

"  ff'hoso  ptdleth  this  szvurd  from  out  this  anvil  and  marble  is 
the  true  King  of  all  England." 

The  people  marveled,  for  the  feat  seemed  easy;  and  there  was 
some  wrangling  among  the  lords,  for  each  of  them  wished  to  be 
King,  as  to  who  should  have  the  .  ^t  trial  to  draw  out  the  sword. 
The  question  having  been  settled  by  the  Archbishop  after  some 
difficulty,  one  after  another  went  up  and  tried  to  draw  the  sword 
from  the  anvil.      But  no  one  could  even  make  it  stir. 

"  It  is  plain,"  said  the  Archbishop,  "  that  the  man  is  not  here 
who  can  draw  the  sword.  But  doubtless  God  will  make  him  known 
in  good  time.  Let  us  issue  a  proclamation  that  there  will  be  an- 
other trial  on  Twelfth  Day.  In  the  meantime,  let  us  provide  ten 
good  knights  to  guard  the  sword." 

All  was  done  as  the  Archbishop  said.  Then,  as  the  nobles  and 
gentlemen  did  not  care  to  return  to  their  homes  and  journey  back 
again,  it  was  arranged  to  have  a  great  joust,  or  tournament,  on 
New  Year's   Day.     The   Archliishop  was  glad  of  this  excuse  to 


THK  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF   IHF  KING 


keep  the  lords  and  the  common  people  together,  for  he  hoped  that 
liurinjT  the  joust  some  si(?n  would  be  given  as  to  who  should  win 
the  sword. 

Now  it  happened  thut  Sir  Anton  lived  on  a  large  estate  near 
London,  ami  he  decided  to  go  up  to  the  tournament  with  his  son, 
Sir  Kay,  and  young  Arthur  for  his  companions.  When  they  had 
ridden  a  few  miles  on  their  journey,  Sir  Kay  discovered  that  he 
had  forgotten  his  sword.  lie  was  much  dismayed,  for  he  meant 
to  take  part  in  the  tourneys,  and  he  begged  Arthur  to  ride  back 
for  it.  This  the  sweet-tempered  lad  willingly  consented  to  do, 
th(>ugh  by  so  doing  he  wouKl  miss  a  large  part  of  the  tournament. 
But  the  tri''  was  a  useless  one,  for  when  he  arrived  at  the  castle, 
he  found  that  all  the  servants  had  set  off  across  the  fields  for  the 
tournament.  There  was  no  one  to  find  the  sword  for  him,  and 
he  was  forced  to  turn  back  empty-handed. 

"  .'Mas!  "  said  he,  "  I  will  not  go  to  my  brother  without  a  sword. 
He  shall  do  his  share  in  the  tourney,  even  though  it  be  late  in  the 
day.  I  will  get  me  down  to  the  churchyard  and  draw  out  the  sword 
from  the  marble." 

When  he  had  come  to  the  churchyard  and  made  fast  his  horse 
to  the  stile,  he  went  to  the  tent  which  had  been  placed  over  the 
marble  block,  and  peeped  in.  And  lo!  the  brave  and  trusted 
knights  who  had  been  left  to  guTd  the  sword  had  stolen  away  to 
the  tourneys!  Seizing  the  weapon  by  the  handle,  Arthur  pulled  it 
easily  from  the  marble,  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  away  in  search 
of  Sir  Kay,  to  whom  he  delivered  the  sword. 

Sir  Kay  recognized  it  at  once,  and,  saying  nothing  of  his  in- 
tentions to  Arthur,  he  spurred  his  horse  to  his  father's  side.  Show- 
ing the  sword  to  Sir  Anton,  he  said,  "  Lo,  Sir,  here  is  the  sword  that 
was  in  the  marble  in  the  churchyard,  wherefore  I  must  be  King 
of  all  England." 

Sir  Anton  was  astonished.  But  he  knew  his  son.  Privately 
summoning  Arthur,  he  made  Sir  Kay  and  the  boy  go  quiptly  with 
him  to  the  churchyard.     There  he  examined  the  marble,  then  he 


now  ARIllLR  CAME  TO  BE  KING 


S 


drew  them  into  the  church  and  sternly  bade  Sir  Kay  tdl  hiin  the 
truth  about  the  stone. 

"I  low  Is  It  that  you  now  have  the  sword  in  vour  possession? 
Vou  could  no  more  tlraw  It  on  Christmas  Day  than  any  other 
knight!  "  he  demanded. 

Sir  Kay  knew  his  father  was  not  to  be  deceived,  so  he  answered 
truly:     "  My  brother  .Arthur  brought  it  to  me." 

"  Zounds!  "  exclaimed  the  old  knif^ht.  "  And  how  came  you  by 
it,  boy?" 

Arthur  told  him. 

"  Then,"  said  Sir  .Anton,  "  I  see  that  you,  lad.  must  be  the  des- 
tined King  of  our  land." 

''  I  !  "  cried  Arthur  in  bewilderment,  for  he  had  not  understood 
the  true  significance  of  the  sword.  "Wherefore  I?  Are  you 
dreaming,  Father?     Why  should  I  be  King?  " 

"  Because  God  will  have  it  so,"  answered  Sir  Anton  solemnly, 
uncovcrii.g  his  head.  "  Know  you  not,  lad,  that  it  has  been  or- 
dained that  whosoever  pulleth  this  sword  from  the  marble  shall 
be  King?  It  is  a  sign  from  the  Great  Ruler  on  high.  Now, 
that  there  may  be  no  mistake,  let  us  see  if  you  can  put  the  sword 
back  in  its  place  and  draw  it  out  again." 

"Surely,  Sir,  that  is  easy!"  answered  Arthur,  r.nd  straightway 
led  the  way  to  the  churchyard. 

Lightly  he  hurled  the  gleaming  steel  Into  the  center  of  the  anvil. 
Then  Sir  Anton  took  hold  of  the  sword  and  tried  to  draw  it  out, 
but  in  vain.  Sir  Kay  next  tried  with  all  his  might  to  move  the 
sword,  but  he  could  not  stir  It. 

"  Nay,"  said  Sir  Anton,  "  you  arc  not  the  man.  Do  you  try, 
Arthur." 

And  Arthur  took  hold  of  the  sword  and  drew  It  forth  easily. 
.\t  this  Sir  Anton  and  Sir  Kay  knelt  on  the  ground  before  him  and 
bowed  low  their  heads. 

"  Alas,"  cried  Arthur,  "  wherefore  do  you  kneel  to  me,  mine 
own  dear  father  and  my  brother?  " 


6        THE  STORY  OF  ID/LLS  OF  THE  KING 

"  \ay,  my  lord  Arthur,"  answered  good  Sir  Anton,  "  call 
me  father  no  more.  You  are  not  of  our  kin.  None  of  my  blood 
courses  in  your  veins." 

Then  he  told  Arthur  how  he  had  taken  him  from  Merlin  and 
brought  him  up  as  his  own  son;  and  how  the  wizard  had  said  that 
Arthur  was  sent  from  heaven  to  be  King.  Arthur  was  deeply 
moved,  but  the  thought  that  he  might  be  the  King  paled  before 
the  loss  of  his  good  parents,  and  he  was  even  more  deeply  grieved. 

Seeing  this,  the  old  knight  said  kindly:  "  Do  not  take  it  to 
heart,  my  lord  Arthur.  We  will  still  be  your  friends,  If  It  please 
you." 

"  If  it  please  me!  "  exclaimed  Arthur.  "What  manner  of  man 
should  I  be  if  it  did  not  please  me?  It  would  ill-behoove  me  to 
show  aught  but  kindness  and  love  to  you  and  my  good  mother,  Lady 
Eleanor  who  have  stood  for  so  many  years  between  me  and  the 
world.  Nay,  Sir  Anton,  If  It  shouiii  L.  that  I  have  the  good  for- 
tune to  be  crowned  King,  ask  what  you  will  of  me  and  the  favor 
shall  be  granted,  even  unto  the  half  of  my  kingdom." 

"  Lord  Arthur,"  replied  the  old  knight,  bowing  low,  "  your  kind- 
ness and  courtesy  do  ciedit  to  the  wise  teachings  of  my  good  lady. 
I  thank  you.  But  I  shall  ask  no  more  of  you  than  that  you  make 
my  son.  Sir  Kay,  seneschal  of  all  your  lands." 

"  Indeed,"  answered  Arthur,  "  that  will  I  do  willingly.  And, 
by  my  faith,  no  ,:  in  but  he  shall  fill  that  office  while  he  and  I  live." 

Then  Sir  Anton  counseled  Arthur  ?nd  Sir  Kay  to  hold  their  peace 
till  Twelfth  Day,  when  Arthur  might  take  his  turn  among  all  those 
who  came  to  try  for  the  sword. 

"  For,"  said  he,  "  no  other  man  can  take  the  sword,  let  him 
try  as  he  may.  You  are  ihe  King  that  God  has  sent  to  save  the 
land.  It  is  best  that  you  prove  yourseh  before  all  the  lords  and 
common  people." 

When  Twelfth  Day  came,  a  great  crowd  again  assembled,  and 
all  the  mighty  and  powerful  men  of  the  kingdom  tried  in  turn 
to  <lraw  the  sword.      But  none  of  them  could  do  it.     Then  Arthur 


HOW  ARTHUR  CAME  TO  BE  KING  7 

stepped  out  modestly  from  the  ranks  of  the  gentlemen  and  drew 
the  sword  with  ease.  At  first  the  people  were  amazed.  Then 
there  was  a  great  shout  and  a  mutter  of  angry  voices.  How  could 
all  the  great  and  powerful  knights  submit  to  be  ruled  by  a  mere 
boy,  who  had  never  even  been  knighted?  It  was  with  difficulty 
that  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  his  assistants  finally  re- 
stored order.  Then  the  Archbishop  proposed  that  the  question 
should  not  be  decided  till  Candlemas,  which  is  the  second  day  of 
February,  and  to  this  all  agreed. 

However,  when  Candlemas  came,  Arthur  again  was  the  only 
one  from  among  the  vast  throng  assembled  in  the  churchyard  who 
could  draw  the  sword.  But  the  people  were  no  better  satisfied 
than  before;  so  they  agreed  to  have  another  trial  on  Easter  Day. 
And  again  it  happened  that  none  but  Arthur  could  take  the  sword. 
Once  more  it  was  agreed  that  another  trial  should  take  place  — 
this  time  at  the  Feast  of  the  Pentecost,  commonly  known  as  Whit- 
sunday, seven  weeks  after  Easter. 

Now  so  bitter  was  the  feeling  against  Arthur  that  Merlin  was 
fearful  lest  he  come  to  harm,  so  the  wizard  prevailed  upon  the 
Archbishop  to  send  ten  of  Uther's  best-beloved  knights  to  serve 
the  young  King-to-be  as  a  body-guard.  They  were  to  attend 
Arthur  at  all  times,  and  never  to  leave  him  even  for  a  moment, 
until  the  great  day  for  the  Feast  of  the  Pentecost  arrived. 

The  people  had  now  grown  reckless  over  the  choice  of  King, 
feeling  that  any  full-grown  man  could  rule  more  wisely  than  a  mere 
stripling;  so  all  manner  of  men  were  allowed  to  test  their  strength 
on  the  day  of  Pentecost.  But  all  to  no  purpose,  for  none  but 
Arthur  could  draw  the  sword.  When  for  the  fourth  time  he  pre- 
vailed over  all  the  knights  and  strong  men  of  the  land,  a  murmur 
ran  through  the  crowd.  A  presentiment  seemed  to  descend  upon 
them.  And  all  the  common  people  fell  upon  their  knees,  crying: 
Let  Arthur  be  crowned  King!  W^e  will  take  no  other.  He  it 
is  whom  God  has  sent.  Deny  him  no  longer,  lest  a  great  pestilence 
come  upon  us.     Long  live  Ar'.nur,  the  King!  " 


8        THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

Many  o*"  the  knights  now  began  to  waver,  and  several  of  them 
came  and  knelt  at  Arthur's  feet  and  implored  him  to  forgive  them 
for  doubting  him.  This  Arthur  did  readily,  and,  talcing  the  sword, 
knelt  and  offered  it  on  the  altar  before  the  Archbishop.  Then  he 
T?as  knighted  by  the  best  man  there. 

Arthur  was  crowned  at  once,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  people, 
and  there  he  swore  to  the  lords  and  the  common  people  to  be  a 
true  king  forevermore,  and  to  rule  the  land  with  right  and  justice. 
On  one  side  of  him  stood  the  wizard,  Merlin,  his  beard  whitened 
by  the  frosts  of  a  hundred  winters,  and  on  the  other  stood  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake,  who  had  appeared  as  though  by  magic,  clothed 
in  white  samite,  mystic  and  wonderful.  A  mist  A  incense  curled 
about  her,  and  her  face  was  well-nigh  hidden  in  i...'  gloom. 

Just  as  the  coronation  ceremonies  were  over,  the  attention  of 
the  people  was  attracted  toward  the  lake  near  by.  And  behold,  a 
most  wonderful  sword  rose  above  the  waters  in  the  center  of  the 
lake! 

"  The  mystic  sword !  "  cried  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.  "  Make 
haste,  my  lord  Arthur,  row  out  and  secure  it.  Excalibur,  mean- 
ing cut-steel,  is  his  name.  Strong  and  powerful  is  he.  And  with 
him  in  your  hands  no  enemy  can  stand  before  you." 

"And  mind  you,  O  King,"  said  the  wizard,  "secure  you  the 
scabbard,  for  it  is  ten  times  more  powerful  than  the  sword.  While 
you  have  the  scabbard  upon  you,  you  shall  lose  no  blood,  be  you 
ever  so  sorely  wounded." 

Thus  admonished,  Arthur  lost  no  time  in  securing  the  sword. 
And  a  wonderful  sword  it  was,  with  a  blade  so  bright  that  men 
were  blinded  by  it.  "  All  the  haft  twinkled  with  diamond  sparks, 
myriads  of  topaz-lights  and  jacinth-work  of  subtlest  jewelry.  '  On 
the  hilt  was  engraved  the  "  Elfin  Urim,"  mysterious  Hebrew  jewels, 
having  a  hidden  meaning.  Some  say  that  this  symbol  consisted 
of  four  rows  of  precious  stones  on  which  were  inscribed  the  names 
of  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel;  others  that  it  was  formed  of  three 
stones,  one  of  which  indicated  in  son.^;  mysterious  way  the  answer 


HOW  ARTHUR  CAME  TO  BE  KING  9 

"  Yes,"  the  second  "  No,"  while  the  third  was  neutral.  On  one 
side  of  the  blade  was  engraved  In  Hebrew,  "  Take  me,"  but  on 
the  other  side  were  the  words  "  Cast  me  a-jjay."  When  he  had 
read  the  inscriptions.  Arthur  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do,  and  his  face 
grew  sad  at  the  thought  of  throwing  away  the  wonderful  sword. 
But  Merlin  came  to  his  aid. 

"Take  the  sword  and  strike  I  "  he  counseled.  ''The  time  to 
cast  away  is  yet  far  off." 

And  Arthur  obeyed. 


iSt^ 


CHAPTER  II 


THE    FOUNDING    OF    THE    ROUND   TABLE 

ARTHUR  had  scarcely  been  king  an  hour  before  complaints 
began  to  pour  in  upon  him.  Lords,  knights,  •  nd  la-lies  be- 
sought him  to  restore  lands  which  had  been  taken  from  them, 
in  one  way  and  another,  since  the  death  of  Uther.  The  widowed 
and  the  fatherless  came  to  him  for  protection,  and  prayed  him  to 
give  them  aid  in  various  causes.  The  King  received  all  who  sought 
him,  for  he  had  a  kind  heart  a.  '  '-nged  with  all  his  soul  to  estab- 
lish order,  truth,  and  justice  trhout  his  realm.  But  many 
difficulties  plunged  him  into  a  sea  of  trouble,  and  he  readily  saw 
that  he  must  have  a  band  of  faithful  helpers. 

One  of  the  first  acts  was  to  make  Sir  Kay  seneschal  of  England, 
according  to  the  promise  given  to  Sir  Anton.  To  him  was  en- 
trusted, as  far  as  possible,  the  restoration  of  all  lands  to  their  proper 
owners.  Arthur  next  remembered  son.e  old  friends  of  King 
Uther's,  Sir  Baldwin,  Sir  Ulfius  and  Sir  Brastias.  Sir  Baldwin  was 
made  Constable  of  Britain,  and  Sir  Ulfius,  Chamberlain;  while  Sir 
Brastias  he  appointed  Warden  of  the  country  north  of  the  River 
Trent.  Of  course  a  large  part  of  the  land  over  which  these  lords 
were  supposed  to  hold  sway  was  Arthur's  realm  only  in  name, 
as  it  was  ruled  by  kings  who  were  hostile  to  him.  This  land  had 
to  be  conquered.  To  conquer  it  Arthur  would  need  a  large  army; 
therefore  he  conceived  the  idea  of  founding  an  order  called  The 
Knights  of  the  Round  Table. 

These  knights  were  to  be  chosen  from  the  flower  of  the  land. 
They  were  to  be  brave,  true,  chivalrous,  loyal,  ever  ready  to  fight 
for  the  right  and  to  champion  the  cause  of  the  weak.  A  large- 
number  presented  themselves   at   Arthur's  call,   and  he  took  the 

10 


THP:  founding  of  the  round  table     II 

hanJs  of  each  separately  in  his  own,  and,  in  a  voice  that  trembled, 
bade  the  knighted  make  the  following  vow: 

"  To  reverence  the  King  as  if  he  were 
'l  heir  conscience,  and  their  conscience  as  their  King, 
To  break  the  heathen  and  uphold  tlie  Christ, 
To  ride  abroad  redressing  human  wrongs, 
To  speak  no  slander,  no,  nor  listen  to  it, 
To  honor  his  own  word  as  if  his  God's, 
To  lead  sweet  lives  in  purest  chastity. 
To  love  one  maiden  only,  cleave  to  her, 
And  worship  her  by  years  of  noble  deeds, 
Until  they  won  her." 

So  simple  were  ihe  words  of  great  authority,  so  strait  were  the 
vows  to  his  majesty,  that  when  the  knights  rose  from  kneeling 
"  some  were  pale  as  at  the  passing  of  a  ghost,  some  flushed,  and 
others  dazed  as  one  who  wakes  half-blinded  at  the  coming  of 
a  light."  Then,  when  he  had  finished  knighting  thein,  the  King 
"  spake,  and  cheered  his  Table  Round  with  large,  divine,  and  com- 
fortable words,"  beyond  the  power  of  pen  to  tell. 

As  he  talked  a  miracle  happened.  From  eye  to  eye  through 
all  their  Order  flashed  a  momentary  likeness  of  the  King;  and  ere 
it  left  their  faces,  through  the  casement  over  Arthur  came  three 
rays  of  beautiful  light  —  flame-color,  vert  (green),  and  azure, 
one  falling  upon  each  of  three  fair  Queens  who  stood  in  silence 
near  his  throne." 

Just  who  these  three  Queens  were  who  attended  King  Arthur 
we  do  not  know.  Some  say  that  they  were  the  Queen  Morgan  le 
Fay,  Arthur's  sister,  the  Queen  of  Northgales,  and  the  Queen  of 
the  Waste  Lands.  But  others,  and  by  far  the  greater  number, 
say  that  they  were  mystic  Queens  sent  from  heaven  to  watch  over 
the  King,  and  that  they  were  embodiments  of  the  three  cardinal 
virtues.  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity.  They  always  hovered  near 
him;  but  only  rarelv  were  they  visible  to  the  eyes  of  the  knights 
in  attendance. 


12 


THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


The  royal  palace  and  the  court  of  the  Knights  of  ihc  Round 
Table  were  to  be  established  at  Camelot.  To  Merlin  was  en- 
trusted the  planning  of  the  castle  a'.u  the  grounds,  and  the  result 
was  more  than  might  have  been  expected  even  of  a  mighty  wizard. 
It  was  indeed  a  city  of  enchantment—"  a  city  of  shadowy  palaces 
and  stately,  rich  in  emblem  and  the  work  of  ancient  kings  who  did 
thei-  days  in  stone."  Here  and  there  pinnacles  and  spires  rose 
toward  heaven,  and  everywhere  were  beautiful  touches  from  the 
hand  of  Merlin  the  Mage,  who  knew  all  arts. 

A  great  wall  was  built  all  about  the  castle  grounds,  and  the 
rntrance  thereto  was  not  like  any  other  gate  under  heaven: 

"  For  baretDOt  on  the  keystone,  which  was  lined 
And  rippled  like  an  evci  Hecting  wave, 
The  Lady  of  the  Lake  stood :  all  her  dress 
Wept  from  her  sides  as  water  flowing  away; 
But  like  the  cross  her  great  and  goodly  arms 
Siretch'd  under  all  the  cornice  and  upheld: 
And  drops  of  water  fell  from  either  hand; 
And  down  from  one  a  sword  was  hung,  from  one 
A  censer,  either  worn  with  wind  and  storm; 
And  o'er  her  breast  floated  the  sacred  fish ; 
And  in  the  space  to  left  of  her,  and  right. 
Were  Arthur's  wars  in  weird  device-  done, 
New  things  and  old  co-twisted,  as  if  lime 
Were  nothing,  so  inveterately,  that  men 
Were  giddy  gazing  there:  and  over  all 
High  on  the  top  were  those  three  Queens,  the  friends 
Of  Arthur,  who  should  help  him  at  his  need." 

Both  the  castle  and  wall,  however,  were  many  years  in  the 
building,  and  during  all  this  time  Arthur  and  his  knights  were 
waging  the  battle  of  truth  and  justice.  "  And  now  the  Barons  and 
little  kings  prevailed,  and  now  the  King,  as  here  and  there  the 
war  went  swaying."  But  no  enemy  of  Arthur  co  ild  long  hold 
out  against  Excalibur,  which  was  so  bright  in  his  eyes  that  it  gave 
the   light   of  thirty   torches;   and   Arthur's   domain   widened  and 


■'4 

■9. 


i 
■f 


THE  FOUNDING  OF  THE  ROUND  TABLE     13 

lengthened  daily,  while  the  pure  an  1  noble  deeds  of  the  King 
and  his  knights  uplifted  and  bettered  all  with  whom  they  came  in 
contact.  Arthur  and  the  noble  knights  of  the  Round  Table  were 
known  far  and  wide,  and  everywhere  they  were  both  loved  and 
feared. 

Perhaps  the  hardest  struggle  of  all,  was  that  with  the  Welsh 
kings  and  barons.  Tliey  were  most  stubborn  in  their  resistance 
against  King  Arthur.  So,  after  he  had  conquered  all  England 
and  won  to  himself  many  true  and  valiant  knights,  he  went  down 
into  Wales  and  caused  a  great  Feast  of  the  Pentecost  to  be  held 
in  the  city  of  Caerleon,  hoping  thus  to  please  the  people.  To 
this  feast  came  many  great  kings  with  large  hosts  of  po'verful 
knights.  And  Arthur  rejoiced,  for  he  thought  they  had  come 
to  do  honor  to  him;  and  he  sent  messengers  to  them  with  rich 
presents. 

But  the  kings  refused  even  to  look  at  these,  and  repulsed  the 
bearers  with  bitter  scorn,  saying  that  they  would  receive  no  gifts 
from  a  beardless  boy  of  questionable  blood.  And  they  sent  word 
to  Arthur  that  they  had  come  to  bring  him  gifts,  which  they  would 
deliver  with  sharp  swords,  betwixt  the  neck  and  shoulders.  They 
charged  the  messengers  to  say  plainly  to  Arthur  that  they  had 
come  to  slay  him,  for  they  would  never  submit  to  the  rule  of  a 
mere  boy. 

Arthur  and  his  lords  took  counsel  together,  and  decided  to  en- 
trench themselves  in  a  strong  tower  which  was  near  at  hand. 
Accordingly,  five  hundred  picked  knights  were  chosen,  food  was 
hastily  gathered  in,  and  the  army  fortified  behind  strong  walls. 
Hardly  were  they  safely  settled,  when  the  mighty  Army  of  the 
Kings  besieged  them,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  for  the  strong  walls 
of  the  tower  sheltered  them  well.  For  fifteen  days  the  siege 
lasted;  then  Merlin  came  into  the  city. 

The  kings  welcomed  him  gladly,  for  the  old  wizard  had  many 
times  worked  powerful  charms  for  them. 

"But,"  they  demanded,  "why  is  this  boy  — this  slender  strip- 


14      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

ling,   Arthur,  a  mere  nobody,  the  chosen  King  of  all  your  noble 

people?  " 

"  Because,"  answered  Merlin  sternly,  "  he  is  the  Heaven-sent 
son  of  King  Uther  Pendragon.  And  it  is  not  meet  that  yc  f^ght 
against  him,  besides  it  wil.  profit  ye  naught.  Powerful  is  he  and 
brave,  endowed  with  God-given  strength.  All  his  enemies  shall 
fall  before  him,  and  he  shall  be  luler  over  land  and  sea.  Greater 
than  all  great  kings  shall  he  be,  and  all  the  people  will  bow  before 
him  and  cry,  '  All  hail,  the  good  King   '  -thur  1 

There  were  some  among  the  kings  who  heeded  Merlin's  words; 
but  others,  and  those  the  more  powerful,  laughed  scornfully,  and 
muttered  under  their  breath  things  not  exactly  complimentary  to 
the  old  wizard.  However,  he  gained  from  them  a  promise  to 
listen  to  Arthur  if  he  cared  to  come  out  and  speak  with  them,  and 
they  assured  him  that  Arthur  would  be  allowed  to  come  and  go  in 
peace. 

Then  Merlin  went  to  King  Arthur.  "  Go  out  and  speak  boldly 
t.o  them  as  their  King  and  Chieftain,"  he  advised.  "  And  spare 
them  not;  neither  be  thou  afraid,  for  thou  shalt  overcome  them  in 
spite  of  all." 

So  Arthur  hastily  donned  robes  of  peace  over  his  heavy  armor 
and  went  out  to  meet  them.  With  him  went  Sir  Kay,  Sir  Brastias, 
Sir  Baldwin,  and  the  Great  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  Wiseiy 
and  well  did  Arthur  speak  to  the  hostile  kings,  and  never  once 
did  he  fail  to  reply  readily  to  the  many  questions  which  they  asked. 
But  his  wisdom  and  gentle  kindness  did  not  impress  them.  They 
defied  him,  and  Arthur  told  them  ss'^'-,  but  with  spirit,  that  he 
would  yet  make  them  bow  their  heads  in  submission.  Then  the 
kings  turned  awav  In  great  wrath. 

After  Arthur  had  gone  back  to  the  tower,  Merlin  turned  to  the 
kings,  saying :  "  What  will  ye  do?  Ye  had  better  disband  quietly, 
for  I  say  unto  you  that  truly  ye  will  never  prevail.  No,  not  were 
your  number  doubled  unto  ten  times  ten,  for  God  is  with  Arthur 
and  his  knights." 


THE  FOUNDING  OF  THE  ROUND  TABLE     15 

But  the  kings  were  angry  :uul  sore  of  spirit,  and  they  said  to 
him  scornfully:  "  Since  when  have  we  taken  advice  from  dream- 
ers: 

Then  Merlin  faded  swiftly  from  their  sight,  vanishing  by  magic, 
and  the  kings  were  troubled.  They  had  no  wish  to  anger  the  old 
wi/ard,  lest  he  work  some  chirm  upon  them. 

At  once  Merlin  appeared  before  Arthur,  counseling  him 
fiercely:  "  Set  upon  yonder  rebellious  rascals  this  hour,  and  smite 
them.  Go  against  them  with  weapons  like  their  own;  then,  if  the 
battle  waxes  against  you,  draw  Kxcalibur  and  he  shall  win  the 
victory." 

And  it  came  to  pass  as  Merlin  had  foretold. 

Within  the  hour  Arthur  and  his  knights  fell  upon  the  vast  Army 
of  the  Kings,  and  for  a  time  the  battle  waxed  hot  and  fierce. 
Everywhere  Arthur  appeared  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  until 
finally  his  horse  was  slain  under  him,  and  several  of  the  rebel 
knights  sprang  upon  him.  Quickly  he  unsheathed  Excallbur  and 
waved  him  aloft.  There  was  a  light  like  that  of  thirty  torches, 
low  thunders  rumbled,  and  lightnings  played  around,  and  the  re- 
bellious kings  and  barons  shrank  together,  afraid.  Then  Arthur 
aiid  hi?  knights  pressed  them  close.  Slowly  they  retreated;  the 
citizens  of  Caerleon  joined  Arthur  and  fell  upon  them  with  clubs 
and  stones,  slayinp  many  knights;  and  finally  the  remnant  of  the 
noble  Army  of  the  Kings  broke  and  fled. 

And  Merlin  came  to  King  Arthur  and  counseled  him  not  to 
follow  them.  So  Arthur  and  his  knights  returned  to  Camelot  and 
held  coMncii  as  to  what  were  best  to  be  done.  For  Merlin  had 
told  them  that  the  kings  though  defeated  were  not  humbled,  and 
we'd  follow  him  into  his  own  country  to  wreak  vengeance  upon 
him. 

At  the  council  it  was  decided  to  send  for  Merlin  and  abide  by 
h's  advice,  and  he  came,  saying:  "I  warn  ye  that  your  enemies 
are  exceeding  strong.  They  are  as  good  men-at-arms  as  any  in  all 
the  land.     Since  ye  fought  with  them  they  have  added  four  S:ot- 


i6      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

tish  kin^s  and  a  powe  ful  duke,  with  their  larj^e  companies  of 
knights,  to  their  number.  If  our  King  goeth  out  to  meet  them, 
even  with  all  the  able  knights  he  can  gather  together  in  his  realm, 
he  will  be  out-numbered,  overcome,  and  slain. 

"  Now,  if  ye  will,  hark  i  to  my  advice:  Across  the  seas  there 
live  two  strong  and  powerful  brothers;  kings  they  are.  One  is 
King  Ban  of  Benwick,  and  the  other  King  Bors  of  France.  They 
have  a  very  rich  and  powerful  enemy,  King  Claudas,  \,'ho  worries 
-hem  continually  and  against  whom  they  cannot  prevail.  Now, 
let  my  lord  King  Arthur  send  two  trusty  messengers  unto  these 
kings  and  entreat  '.hem  to  come  to  our  aid,  promising  in  return  to 
help  deliver  them  from  King  Claudas." 

And  the  King  and  all  his  knights  approved;  so  Ulfius  and  Bras- 
tias  were  chosen  as  messengers  to  the  brothers.  They  started  in 
great  haste  for  the  city  of  Benwick.  In  a  narrow  pass  among 
the  mountains  they  were  set  upon  by  eight  knights  from  the  court 
of  King  Claudas,  but  God  was  with  them  and  they  overcame,  and 
left  their  enemies  lying  sorely  wounded  upon  the  field. 

At  Benwick,  very  fortunately,  they  found  both  King  Ban  and 
King  Bors,  enjoying  life  in  peace;  for  their  enemy  King  Claudas 
and  most  of  his  knights  had  gone  away  over  the  borders  for  a  big 
hunt.  As  soon  as  the  kings  learned  that  the  messengers  came 
from  the  court  of  Arthur  and  were  of  the  Round  Table,  they  wel- 
comed them  most  heartily,  and  summoned  attendants  to  give  them 
food  and  bind  the  wounds  they  had  received  upon  their  journey. 

Until  morning  the  good  knights  tarried,  and  then  set  out  upon 
the  homeward  journey  with  joyful  hearts.  Not  only  did  they  have 
about  their  persons  as  many  rich  gifts  for  King  Arthur  as  they 
could  well  carry,  but  they  had  something  that  was  of  far  greater 
value  —  a  promise  from  King  Ban  and  King  Bors  to  come  to 
Camelot  as  soon  as  they  could  make  ready,  and  help  Arthur  in  his 
struggle  with  the  rebellious  Welsh  and  Scots. 

Great  was  the  ioy  among  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table, 
when  the  good  news  was  heard.      Preparations  were  at  once  begun 


THE  FOUNDING  OF  THF  ROUND  TABLE     17 

for  a  ^rand  feast  and  tournament  when  the  kings  and  their  follow- 
ers  should  arrive.  Arthur  and  a  hind  of  his  most  noble  knights 
went  twenty  miles  along  the  way  to  meet  the  expected  guests,  and 
most  heartily  did  they  greet  thenj.  I'he  next  day  almost  one 
thousand  knight-,  took  part  in  the  tourneys  and  enjoyed  tlie  bounti- 
ful feasts.  King  Arthur,  King  Ban,  and  King  Bors,  the  .Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  old  Sir  .\nton,  and  the  ladies  of  Arthur's 
court  sat  on  a  platform  covered  with  cloth-of-gold,  and  acted  as 
judges  of  the  contests.  And  a  merry  time  every  one  had.  It  was 
the  largest  joust  yet  held  in  England. 

When  the  eleven  rebellious  kings  marched  up  against  .Arthur, 
he  and  his  allies  were  not  only  ready  but  waiting  for  them,  and  a 
battle  was  fought  on  the  plains  below  Camelot.  The  great  Army 
of  the  Kings  was  utterly  routed,  and  Arthur  acknowledged  as  King 
of  Oeat  Britain.  His  allies,  the  kings  Ban  and  Bors,  laden  with 
rich  presents,  returned  to  their  own  countries,  happy  in  the  assur- 
ance that  if  their  enemy,  Claudas,  ever  again  molested  them,  they 
had  only  to  send  to  the  court  of  Arthur  to  obtain  the  means  neces- 
sary to  quiet  him  forever. 

Scarcely  had  the  foreign  kings  gone  and  Arthur  and  his  noble 
knights  settled  down  for  a  time  of  peaceful  quiet,  when  guests 
arrived  at  Court.  They  were  Bellicent,  wife  of  King  Lot  of 
Orkney,  with  her  sons,  and  a  host  of  servants.  Now  Lot  was 
one  of  the  kings  who  had  recently  been  engaged  in  the  war  against 
Arthur.  But  Queen  Bellicent  represented  that  she  came  in  friend- 
ship, and  told  Arthur  she  had  just  discovered  that  she  was  his 
half-sister,  being  the  daughter  of  Igralne,  wife  of  Uther,  by  a 
foimer  marriage.  She  was  a  very  beautiful  woman,  and  Arthur's 
heart  went  out  to  her.  Pure  and  truthful  himself,  he  was  the  last 
man  in  the  world  to  detect  falsehood,  deceit,  and  cunning  in  an- 
other, so  he  made  her  most  welcome.  And  not  until  her  departure, 
a  month  later,  did  he  learn  that  she  had  really  come  to  him  as  a 

spy- 
All  was  revealed  to  him  in  a  marvelous  dream,  which  filled  him 


i8     rm-:  story  of  idylls  of  rut;  kl\g 


with  dread.  It  seemed  as  though  there  came  into  his  land  a  'argc 
number  of  griffins  and  serpents  which  Inirnt  ami  slew  the  people 
throughout  the  land.  And  Arthur  thought  that  he  went  to  hattic 
with  them  and  that,  although  they  wouniied  him  sorely,  he  finally 
succeeded  in  slaying  them. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  he  Inquired  of  .Merlin. 

"  Ah,  my  Lord  .Arthur,"  answered  the  old  man  solemnly,  "  it 
was  a  gruesome  dream,  and  it  meant  Treason.  You  have  indeed 
entertained  serpents  in  your  court  unawares  for  the  past  thirty 
days.  They  shall  bite  and  sting  like  adders!  Queen  Fkdlicent's 
son  shall  break  up  your  noble  order  of  the  Knights  of  ihe  Round 
Table,  lay  in  waste  the  glo;  ies  of  Camelot,  and  slay  you  in  ■  ittle." 

.And  .Arthur  was  disheartened  at  the  words,  and  drooped  in  ex- 
ceeding bitterness  of  spirit. 

But  Merlin  counseled  him  wisely:  "Rebel  not.  It  is  Ciod's 
will,  and  He  doth  all  things  well.  Forget  it!  I  should  not  have 
told  you,  for  it  profits  no  man  to  know  the  Future  I  Pray  regard 
it  as  though  you  knew  it  not,  my  Lord  Arthur.  Live  ev  ;r  as  the 
pure,  blameless  King,  and  when  years  hence,  for  it  will  be  years 
herce,  the  end  romes,  you  will  receive  your  reward.  Sorrow  not, 
my  lord,  for  yo^  shall  die  an  honorabL-  death,  b  '  —  I  shall  die 
shamefully.      I  shall  be  buried  alive!" 

Arthur  marveled  much  over  the  words  of  the  wizard,  and,  later 
he  saw  how  faithfully  this  prophecy  of  doom  was  fulfilled,  par- 
ticularly that  about  the  magician's  own  sad  ending.  It  seems  that 
Merlin,  old  as  he  was,  fell  in  love  with  Vivien,  a  beautiful  but 
wicked  maiden  of  Arthur's  court.  She  enticed  from  the  old  man 
a  great  number  of  his  magic  secrets,  and  used  them  to  further 
her  own  interests.  At  'ast  Merlin  became  so  deeply  in  love  with 
Vivien  that  he  could  scarcely  bear  to  have  the  maiden  out  of  his 
sight,  and  she  grew  very  weary  of  him.  Moreover,  she  was 
afraid  of  him  because  he  was  a  wizard.  She  feared  that  in  one 
of  his  jealous  frenzies  he  would  work  some  charm  upon  her. 

Now,  there  was  one  charm  the  secret  of  which  Merlin  would 


THK  FOIXDIXC;  OF    IIIK  KOINU    lABLK     19 

never  tell  Vivien,  though  lie  lrci|utMuly  hinted  of  its  j{reat  pow  ■•. 
Of  course,  when  she  found  lie  wouKI  not  tell  the  secret,  she  was 
most  anxious  to  know  it,  so  she  tried  in  every  way  to  learn  it.  But 
Merlin  was  wise:  he  was  aware  of  Vivien's  feeling  for  h.rn,  and 
he  knew  that  if  .,!ic  discovered  the  secret  his  life  would  be  in  dan- 
ger; for  one  who  knew  it  could  work  a  spell  upon  another  that 
would  put  that  other  into  a  deep  sleep;  then  "he  possessor  of  the 
charm  could  cause  the  ground,  or  a  tree,  to  open,  allowing  him 
to  roll  the  victim  in  and  seal  hitn  up. 

But  alas  for  Merlin  !  He  thouj^ht  so  much  about  the  secret  that 
daily  it  became  harder  for  him  to  keep  it.  II"  had  a  presentiment 
that  some  d.-'y,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  he  would  tell  the  charm. 
And  sure  enough  he  did! 

He  and  Vivien  were  sitting  under  i  large  oak  tree  in  the  Breton 
forest  of  Borceliande.  A  great  weariness  was  upon  Merlin,  for  he 
was  very  old,  ha\ing  lived  three  times  the  number  of  years 
usually  allotted  to  man.  He  had  not  the  strength  to  withstand 
Vivien's  coaxing  to  tell  him  the  secrtt  and  he  yielded.  Hardly 
had  he  to'd  it  to  her  when  he  felt  a  great  drowsiness  stealing  over 
him.  In  a  moment,  he  lay  in  a  deep  sleep,  and  Vivien  stood  over 
him,  clapping  her  hands  and  laughing  in  wild  glee.  Then,  with  a 
ft»v  mysterious  moves  and  passes,  she  caused  the  great  tree  to  open, 
and  roughly  tumbled  Merlin  in.  No  sooner  was  he  safely  inside 
than  the  tree  closed  up  again, — 

"  And  in  the  hollow  oak  he  lay  as  dead. 
And  lost  to  life  and  use  and  name  and  fame." 


And  Vivien  laughed  and  shrieked  wildly,  "  I  have  made  his 
glory  mine.  Fool!  O  fool  I"  she  cried.  Then  she  turned  and 
sprang  avvay  through  the  forest,  and  the  thicket  closed  behind  her 
as  the  deep  woods  echoed  "  fool  I  " 


CHAPTER  III 


Arthur's  best  friend 

AMONG  King  Arthur's  knights  was  one,  Sir  Lancelot  of 
the  Lake,  whom  he  loved  with  a  love  passing  that  of 
women.  Sir  Lancelot  was  one  of  the  first  to  respond  to 
Arthur's  call,  and  he  willingly  left  his  beautiful  castle  "  Joyous 
Gard  "  in  Northumberland,  to  do  the  will  of  his  "  blameless,  white 
king."  Chief  was  Lancelot  among  all  the  brave  and  noble  knights 
of  the  Round  Table;  in  tournaments  and  jousts  and  deeds  of  arms 
he  surpassed  all  others,  and  never  was  he  overcome  except  by 
treason  or  enchantment.  All  over  the  land,  next  to  good  King 
Arthur,  Sir  Lancelot  was  loved  and  honored  by  high  and  low. 
Always  he  fought  next  to  his  king  in  battle,  and  well  did  his  strong 
arm  serve  his  master. 

Sir  Lancelot  loved  excitement  and  the  joy  of  the  fray.  He 
was  never  content  to  lounge  at  home,  among  the  splendors  of  the 
court  at  Camelot.  If  adventure  were  not  at  hand,  he  went  out 
in  search  of  it,  ,.nd  many  are  the  thrilling  stories  told  of  him. 
It  is  said  that  once,  at  a  great  tou-ney,  he  overthrew  twenty-eight 
knights  in  quick  succession,  among  them  being  the  great  and  mighty 
King  of  North  Wales. 

Legend  has  it  that  once,  when  affairs  at  the  court  were  dull,  Sir 
Lancelot,  according  to  his  custom,  determined  to  go  in  quest  of 
adventures.  He  set  out  with  only  one  companion,  his  nephew, 
Sir  Lionel,  saying  that  he  would  not  return  until  time  for  the  great 
Feast  of  the  Pentecost,  which  was  always  observed  at  Camelot, 
with  great  tourneys  and  much  rejoicing.  Days  passed  and  noth- 
ing was  heard  from  the  adventurers,  and  finally  time  drew  very 

20 


ARTHUR'S  BEST  FRIP:ND 


21 


near  to  the  Pentecost.     Then  Lancelot's  brother,  Sir  Ector,  grew 
anxious,  and  set  out  in  search  of  the  two  men. 

Though  not  so  strong  as  his  brother  Lancelot,  Sir  Ector  was  a 
brave  and  noble  knight.  So  he  rode  boldly  into  the  heavy  forest 
for  many  miles  in  the  direction  in  which  his  brother  and  his  nephew 
had  started.  Finally  he  met  a  sturdy  forester  and  inquired  of 
him  if  there  were  any  adventures  to  be  found  thereabout. 

"Yea,"  said  the  forester.  "If  you  be  a  brave  man,  you  can 
find  all  that  you  seek  about  a  mile  farther  on,  in  the  depth  of  the 
forest.  There  is  a  strong  manor  with  a  deep  moat  around  it, 
and  a  ford  where  your  horse  may  drink.  Hard  by  is  a  beautiful 
tree  all  hung  with  many  fair  shields  that  orce  belonged  to  bold, 
true  knights.  In  the  midst  of  these  hangs  a  brass  and  copper 
basin.  If  you  smite  angrily  upon  it  three  times  with  the  butt  of 
your  spear,  that  which  you  seek  will  appear." 

Sir  Ector  rode  forward  at  once.  He  knew  well  that  if  Sir 
Lancelot  had  passed  that  way,  he  had  sought  at  once  the  adven- 
ture of  which  the  forester  told.  As  he  came  up  to  the  tree  and 
eagerly  scanned  the  many  shields,  he  recognized  the  shield  of  his 
nephew,  Sir  Lionel,  and  also  those  of  several  knights  of  the  Round 
Table  who  had  mysteriously  disappeared.  But  of  Sir  Lancelot's 
shield  there  was  no  sign.  Though  he  thanked  Heaven  for 
this.  Sir  Ector  was  both  dismayed  and  disheartened,  and  very 
angry  withal  at  the  sight  of  these  silent  proofs  of  treachery  done 
to  his  friends.  So  he  smote  angrily  upon  the  basin  three  times, 
and  rode  his  horse  into  the  stream,  to  give  him  a  drink.  Scarcely 
had  the  animal  satisfied  himself,  when  a  knight  rode  up  behind 
Sir  Ector  and  demanded  that  he  come  out  of  the  water  and  pre- 
pare to  defend  himself.  With  a  shout  Sir  Ector  wheeled  sharply, 
and  smote  th'.  strange  knight  such  a  heavy  blow  that  he  fairly 
made  his  horse  reel. 

"  Ha !  "  cried  the  knight.  "  That  was  well  done,  and  more  than 
knight  P. IS  done  to  me  these  twelve  years  past,  but,  my  friend, 
such  as  you  can  be  no  match  for  Turquine !  " 


22 


THE  STORY  OF  lUVLLS  OF  THFJ  KINO 


As  the  strange  knight  spoke  his  name,  Sir  Fetor  fell  :  rembhng, 
for  there  was  scarcely  a  knight  in  all  the  Order  of  ,.e  Round 
Table  who  did  not  fear  the  great  and  mighty  bandit,  bir  1  ur- 
quine  The  powerful  knight  marked  the  effect  of  his  words,  and 
chuckled  to  himself  as  he  reached  out  one  mighty  arm  and  plucked 
the  fear-weakened  Sir  Fetor  from  the  saddle.  Swiftly  he  bore 
hi  away  to  his  own  home,  where  he  stripped  him  of  his  armor, 
beat  him  with  crael  thorns,  and  threw  him  into  a  deep  dungeon, 
where  he  found  many  men  whom  he  knew,  among  them  the  lost 

Sir  Lionel.  .  ,      ,  , 

"Alas,  my  nephew!"  cried  Sir  Ector,  "that  we  should  meet 
in  this  foul  place!     But  tell  me,  know  you  aught -of  my  brother, 

Lancelot?"  .  i    j       r 

"  No,"  answered  Lionel.  "  I  left  him  asleep  in  the  shade  of 
an  oak  tree,  but  whether  he  now  lives  I  know  not.  One  thing 
is  sure:  unless  he  does,  and  comes  to  our  rescue,  we  shall  rot  m 
prison.  For  there  is  no  man  on  earth  but  Lancelot  who  can  over- 
throw our  jailer."  .       t 

While  the  knights  mourned  and  sympathized  with  each  other, 
Lancelot  also  drooped  and  languished  in  a  distant  prison  cell.  As 
he  had  lain  in  peaceful  slumber  under  the  oak  tree,  four  Queen- 
witches  had  come  by  and  cast  a  spell  over  him.  They  had  borne 
him  off  to  their  castle  and  had  sought  by  every  means  in  their 
power  to  make  him  renounce  the  Round  Table  and  his  allegiance 
to  King  Arthur,  and  serve  in  their  castle  guard  instead.  This  Sir 
Lancelot  would  not  do,  and  the  Queens  declared  he  should  die 
in  prison  if  his  will  could  not  be  broken. 

Now  it  chanced  that  the  damsel  who  was  commanded  to  wait 
upon  Sir  Lancelot,  and  carry  him  his  meals,  was  the  daughter  of 
Bagdemagus,  a  king  whose  head  had  been  bowed  low  in  the  dust  by 
the  King  of  North  Wales.  Once  in  a  tournament  Lancelot  had 
overthrown  this  great  king,  and  the  daughter  of  Bagdemagus, 
knowing  this,  was  very  kind  to  Lancelot.  She  offered  to  help  him 
escape,   if  he  would  deliver  her  father  from  the  tyranny  ot  the 


•  ■« 


ARTHUR'S  BEST  FRIEND 


23 


Welsh  king.  Lancelot  was  more  man  glad  *o  consent,  and  at 
the  appointed  time  the  maiden  led  him  safely  away  and  hid  him 
in  her  father's  house.  Then  King  Bagdemagus  assembled  all  his 
brave  and  trusty  knights  and  gave  them  Into  Sir  Lancelot's  com- 
mand, and  great  was  the  victory  which  they  won  over  the  King  of 
Wales  and  his  followers. 

As  soon  as  Lancelot  saw  his  faithful  friend,  the  Princess  Bagde- 
magus and  her  father,  the  King,  safely  settled  In  their  own  bor- 
ders, he  bade  them  a  kind  farewell  and  set  forth  alone  to  seek 
for  Sir  Lionel,  marveling  much  as  to  the  young  man's  disappear- 
ance while  he  himself  had  been  sleeping  beneath  the  oak.  He 
made  his  way  back  to  the  tree,  and  scarcely  had  he  ridden  ten  rods 
from  It  when  he  met  a  maiden  riding  a  white  mule. 

"  Sweet  lady,"  said  he,  bowing  low  before  her,  "  canst  thou  tell 
me  If  any  adventures  are  to  be  found  In  this  forest?  " 

"  Yea,  my  lord  knight,"  answered  the  maiden,  smiling  brightly 
at  the  handsome  Lancelot,  who  had  a  manner  that  was  pleasing 
to  all  women,  "  there  are  many  adventures  hereabouts,  If  it  so 
happens  that  thou  hast  strength  to  prove  them." 

"  And  why  should  I  not  prove  myself,  fa'-  maiden?  "  asked  Sir 
Lancelot  quickly.  "  It  is  for  further  trials  of  my  strength  that  I 
have  come  Into  this  strange  country." 

"  Aye,  and  thou  hast  spoken  like  a  true  knight  I  "  exclaimed  the 
girl  admiringly.  "  I  doubt  not  that  thou  art  powerful  ?nd  brave. 
I  will  bring  thee  to  the  greatest  and  mightiest  knight  that  ere  was 
found,  if  thou  wilt  tell  me  thy  name  and  serve  for  me  a  quest,  if 
first  thou  art  lucky  enough  to  overthrow  the  great  man." 

"  Surely,"  responded  Sir  Lancelot,  with  his  usual  gallantry. 
"  'Twould  be  a  pleasure  to  serve  so  fair  a  lady  on  any  quest, 
however  difficult.  As  to  my  name,  I  am  called  Sir  Lancelot  of 
the  Lake,  and  belong  to  the  Order  of  the  Round  Table.  It  may 
so  chance  that  you  have  heard  of  my  master,  the  noble  King 
Arthur?" 

"  Yes,  Indeed,"  answered  the  maiden  eagerly.      "  Not  only  of 


24      THE  ST*- OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

Arthur,  but  of  h  .  orave  friend  and  most  trusted  knight,  Lancelot. 
Now  do  I  know  that  this  po\xcrful  knight  he  delivered  into  your 
ha:,ds.  He  is  the  great  and  wicked  bandit,  Sir  Turquine.  And 
I  am  told  that  in  his  dungeons  are  three  score  and  four  good 
knights  of  King  Arthur's  court.  He  hath  taken  every  one  that 
came  within  his  reach." 

"  Praise  the  kind  Providence  that  led  me  hither,  fair  maiden  1  " 
cried  Sir  Lancelot.  "  I  will  avenge  my  friends  of  the  Table 
Round  and  slay  the  villain,  or  forever  give  up  my  place  at  Arthur's 
right  hand!  Lead  on  !  I  am  anxious  to  meet  the  bold  Turquine, 
ana  God  will  strengthen  my  spear." 

So  the  damsel  made  haste  to  lead  Sir  Lancelot  .o  the  tree  by 
the  fo.-d,  and  she  showed  him  the  mystery  of  the  basin.  He  recog- 
nized  at  once  a  large  number  of  the  shields  hanging  uj;  on  the  tree, 
and  he  was  so  angry  that  he  smote  the  basin  fiercely  until  the  bot- 
tom fell  out.  But  no  one  came.  Then  Sir  Lancelot  rode  up  to  the 
gates  of  Sir  Turquine's  manor  and  pounded  for  admission,  and 
still  no  one  answered.  So  he  rode  up  and  down  before  the  gates 
like  a  sentinel,  determined  not  to  go  away  until  he  had  obtamed 
satisfaction. 

At  last  horses'  hoofs  were  heard  in  the  distance,  and  presently 
there  appeared  at  a  bend  in  the  road  a  great  knight,  who  drove 
before  his  own  horse  another  on  which  lay  another  knight 
who  was  wounded.  There  was  something  about  the  wounded 
man  which  seemed  strangely  familiar,  and  as  he  came  nearer,  Lance- 
lot saw  that  it  was  Sir  Gaheris,  one  of  the  Order  of  the  Round 
Table  who  had  but  lately  been  knighted. 

Sir  Lancelot  grasped  his  spear  and  firmly  rode  forward  at  a 
gallop.  "Prepare  to  defend  thyself!"  he  shouted  sternly.  "I 
charge  thee  in  the  name  of  King  Arthur  and  the  noble  Order  of 
the  Round  Table  !  " 

"  If  thou  comest  under  the  name  of  that  villainous  band,  thou 
art  truly  welcome!"  answered  the  knight  boldly.  "I  defy  thee 
and  all  thv  noble  brotherhood !  " 


ARTHUR'S  BEST  FRIEND 


25 


"  Thou  hast  too  much  assurance,  friend,"  returned  Sir  Lance- 
lot, calmly.  "  But  I  pray  thee,  before  we  test  our  strength,  let 
us  lay  my  wounded  brother  upon  the  ground  and  make  him  more 
coiiuortable." 

The  knight  consented.  And  then  began  such  a  fight  as  had 
never  been  seen  or  heard  of  before  in  all  England.  Now  one 
knight  prevailed  and  now  the  other,  and  for  full  two  hours  they 
fought  without  either  one  gaining  the  mastery.  Both  were  cov- 
ered with  wounds  and  their  breath  came  in  gasping  sobs;  yet  neither 
would  cry  for  quarter. 

At  last  Sir  Turquine  paused. 

"  Hold  thy  ha."d,  good  knight,"  he  cried,  "  and  let  us  reason 
together.  Thou  art  the  best  knight  that  hath  ever  crossed 
blailcs  with  me,  and  more  liite  one  othi  >■  that  I  have  never 
seen  than  any  one  whom  I  could  imagine.  If  thou  art  rot  he, 
for  I  hate  him  bitterly,  I  will  agree  to  set  free  all  my  prisoners 
and  let  them  return  to  Arthur's  court,  providing  thou  wilt  promise 
to  be  my  friend." 

"And  who  is  it  thou  so  hatest.  Sir  Turquine?"  inquired  Sir 
Lancelot.  "  It  is  meet  that  I  should  know  his  name  ere  I  prom- 
ise, for  thou  art  surely  a  brave  knight,  and  who  knows  that  thou 
mightst  not  be  true  and  loyal  didst  thou  so  mind?  " 

"  Know  then,"  answered  Sir  Turquine  grimly,  "  it  is  Sir  Lance- 
lot of  the  Lake.  He  slew  my  beloved  brother  at  the  battle  of 
the  Towers,  and  to  avenge  him  I  have  killed  a  hundred  good 
knights  and  crippled  many  more,  and  there  are  four  score  and 
ten  shut  up  in  my  dungeons.  Never  will  I  cease  to  slay  the 
knights  of  the  Round  Table  that  come  into  my  borders  whiie 
Lancelot  lives.  Knowest  thou  him?  Is  he  friend  of  thine?  Tell 
me  true." 

"  Aye !  "  answered  Lancelot  bravely.  "  Never  yet  have  I 
spoken  aught  but  truth  to  man.  Behold!  Thy  hated  enemy 
stands  before  thee.  I  am  Lancelot  of  the  Lake,  son  of  Kin*  Ban 
of  Benwick.      And  we  must  fight  u.ito  the  death ;  for  as  thou  must 


26      THE  STORY  Ol'  IDYLLS  OF    THL  KING 

avenge   thy   brother,   so   must   1    lik-.wise   avenge   my   friends  and 
kinsmen  of  the  Round  Table.      I  defy  thee!  " 

Sir  Tiirquine's  wrath  now  waxed  high.  He  fought  with  might 
and  main,  and  Sir  Lancelot  had  all  he  could  do  to  defend  himself. 
For  twi>  hours  more  they  fouj^ht  without  rest,  and  both  were  faint 
and  sick  from  the  pain  of  their  wounds  and  the  loss  of  blood. 
Both  w  re  smeared  and  bespattered,  and  the  grass  all  aoout  them 
was  trodden  and  stained  like  a  slaughter  pen.  At  la-.t  Sir  Tur- 
qulne's  splendid  strength  gave  way,  and  he  bore  his  shield  low 
for  very  weariness.  Then  came  Sir  Lancelot's  chance,  and  he 
seized  it.  Quickly  he  grasped  his  foe  by  the  helmet  and  bore  him 
to  his  knees,  plucking  off  his  helm  as  he  did  so,  and  severing  his 
neck  with  one  blow.     Then  he  fell  fainting  by  the  side  of  the  dead 

knight. 

Now  the  maiden  who  had  brought  Lancelot  to  the  ford  had  re- 
mained hidden  in  a  nearly  ravine  to  watch  the  duel,  and  as  soon 
as  she  saw  that  Lancelot  had  fallen  beside  the  slain  Turquinc,  she 
rushed  to  his  side.  And  it  was  well  that  she  did  so,  for  he  would 
have  died  of  his  wounds  without  her  ministrations.  Seizing  Sir 
Turquine's  helmet  she  bounded  to  the  ford  and  quickly  returned 
with  cool  spring  water  and  soothing  herbs.  Tearing  her  hand- 
kerchief, sash  and  scarf  into  bandages,  she  soon  had  her  pntient's 
wounds  dressed  as  skilfully  as  a  physician  could  have  bound  them, 
and  set  about  restoring  him  to  consciousness. 

It  was  not  long  until  Sir  Lancelot  was  up  and  eager  to  set 
about  his  business.  Almost  immediately  he  In-.uired  of  the  maiden 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  cjuest  which  she  had  wished  him  to  under- 
take. 

"  Nay,  Sir  Knight,"  she  cried  pleadingly,  "  pray  think  not  of  it 
now.     Stay  thy  hand,  Lbeseech  thee,  until  thou  art  rested  and  whole 

again." 

But  Sir  Lancelot  only  laughed.  "  What  are  a  few  wounds,  fair 
maiden?"  he   exclaimed.     "Pray   tell   me   thy  wish,   that  I   may 


ind 


^■smms;:.-' 


'i--()k  TWO  ni>ri."<   MiiKi'    Tiiiv   iiircur"— /'/I,'''  -''5 


S:?! 


AR'lilLR'S  Bl'Sr  FRIEND 


27 


keep  my  promise.      I  must  be  in  Camclot  for  the  Pentecost,  and 
the   time   draws  very   near." 

"  Well,  if  thou  must,  Sir  Knight,"  answered  the  maiden  reluc- 
tantly. "  I  dislike  to  ask  thee  to  duel  more  to-day;  yet  there  is  a 
wicked  knight  hereabouts  who  robs  and  distresses  ladies  and  gen- 
tlewomen. It  would  be  a  noble  act  if  thou  couldst  stay  his  hand, 
and  thou  wouldst  have  the  thanks  of  all  the  ladies  and  damsels." 

"  Lead  on,"  replied  Sir  Lancelot.  "  It  is  a  good  quest.  But 
first  let  us  set  my  wounded  brother  upon  his  feet." 

So  they  loosed  the  thongs  that  bound  the  hands  and  feet  of 
Sir  Gahcris  and  removed  the  gag  from  his  mouth,  so  that  he  was 
free  to  sit  up  and  express  his  thanks  to  Lancelot  and  his  admiration 
for  the  way  Sir  Lancelot  had  held  his  own  in  the  duel  with  Sir  Tur- 
quine.      But  Lancelot  cut  him  short. 

"  Stay  thy  praise.  Sir  Gaheris!  "  said  he.  "  I  did  but  my  duty. 
It  was  meet  that  I  should  do  all  I  could  for  the  Round  Table  and 
our  blameless,  white  king.  Get  thee  hence  and  finish  this  task  for 
me,  while  I  go  with  this  maiden  to  redeem  my  promise.  She  hath 
sore  need  of  a  strong  arm.  I  am  told  that  at  Turqulne's  manor 
hard  by,  there  are  shut  up  in  the  dungeon  a  large  number  of  men 
from  the  Round  Table.  Their  shields  hang  in  a  tree  by  the  ford. 
Among  them  have  I  recognized  those  of  my  kinsmen.  Sir  Ector 
and  Sir  Lionel.  Go  then  to  the  castle,  I  pray  thee,  and  release 
the  prisoners.  Tell  them  to  be  of  good  cheer,  and  to  hasten 
to  Camelot  for  the  great  Feast  of  the  Pentecost,  when  I  shall  be 
with  them." 

So  Sir  Lancelot  and  the  maiden  rode  away,  and  as  they  drew 
near  the  bridge  where  the  wicked  knight  usually  lay  in  covert.  Sir 
Lancelot  bade  the  maiden  ride  on  in  advance.  Scarcely  had  she 
gone  a  dozen  rods,  when  the  bandit  sprang  out  from  the  thicket 
and  dragged  her  from  her  horse.  In  an  instant  Sir  Lancelot  was 
upon  him,  and  with  one  blow  severed  his  head  from  his  body. 

"  Zounds!     What  a  dog!  "  he  cried  in  disgust,  as  he  helped  the 


28      THK  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

weeping  maiden  to  her  feet.  "  '  Tis  a  disgrace  on  kniKhthooJ  that 
such  as  he  lives!  Hast  thou  aught  more  that  1  can  do  tor  thee, 
fair  maiden?  If  so,  thou  hast  hut  lo  speak,  for  thou  hast  twice 
saved  my  hfe,  and  'tis  a  pleasure  to  serve  thee." 

"  Nay,  brave  knight,"  answered  the  maiden,  smiling,  "  thou  art 
very  kind,  and  better  and  gentler  than  any  knight  i  have  yet  seen, 
hut  I  can  ask  no  more  of  thee.  Cio  thy  way,  and  may  the  good 
Father  of  all  guitie  and  preserve  thee  wheresoever  thou  gocst." 

They  parted,  and  Lancelot  rode  forward  into  the  forest  in 
the  direction  of  Camelot.  That  night  he  loiiged  at  the  hut  of 
a  poor  forester.  Next  morning's  sun  found  him  again  upon  the 
way.  Suddenly,  as  he  rode  quietly  along,  he  '  eld  a  knight  racing 
toward  him,  pursued  by  tv.'o  others.  He  reined  in  his  horse  and 
waited  for  them  to  come  up;  and  he  saw  that  the  knight  in  distress 
was  no  other  than  Sir  Kay,  Arthur's  seneschal  and  foster-brother. 
Sir  Lancelot  went  to  his  aid,  and  in  a  furious  fight  the  two  robber- 
knights  were  killed.  But  in  the  fray  Sir  Lancelot's  horse  was 
slain. 

"  Ah,  Sir  Lancelot!  "  cried  Sir  Kay,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak, 
"  'Tis  a  luck)  ...,ng  for  me  that  you  happened  to  be  riding  this 
way!  They  would  have  had  me  in  another  minute!  Did  you  find 
the  adventures  that  you  sought?  Surely  you  must,  for  this  is  a 
land  of  cutthroats  and  robbers!  Woe  is  me!  I  am  sent  upon  a 
quest  for  my  lord  Arthur,  and  well  do  T  know  that  I  shall  never  re- 
turn alive!  " 

"Tut,  Sir  Kay!"  chided  Lancelot,  "where  is  your  courage?" 
But  in  his  heart  he  pitied  the  seneschal  and  felt  that  what  he 
dreaded  would  likely  come  to  pass.  So  he  said:  "  Come,  I  will 
tell  you  what  to  do.  Let  us  make  a  trade.  I  will  exchange  my 
armor  for  your  horse  and  armor.  With  my  shield  and  armor  on, 
you  are  safe,  for  most  people  where  you  are  going  would  not 
venture  to  try  at  arms  with  me,  and  you  can  buy  a  horse  at  the 
nearest  manor.  As  for  me,  I  shall  be  safe  enough,  for  I  can  de- 
fend myself." 


ARTHUR'S  BEST  FRIEND 


And  so  ii  catnc  about  ttiat  I.ancdot  and  the  seneschal  exchanged 
arms,  and  made  many  hearts  sorry  thereby.  For  Sir  Kay  pass-rd 
in  peace  many  robbers  and  highwaymen  who  did  not  dare  molest 
him  thinking  him  Sir  Lancelot,  whose  power  as  a  swordsman  was 
well  known  in  that  vicinity.  1  lad  they  guessed  the  cowardly  heart 
that  beat  under  Sir  Lancelot's  armor  and  seen  how  the  arm  trembled 
that  bore  Sir  Lancelot's  shield,  Sir  Kay  would  surely  have  been 
slain ! 

As  Sir  Lancelot  rotie  on  toward  Camelot,  four  of  Arthur's  knights 
espied  him,  ami  they  nudged  each  other,  saying:  "  Behold  the 
senseclial,  how  proudly  he  bears  himself!  N'erily,  the  honor  of  hia 
position  goes  to  his  head  like  new  wine!  He  rides  like  the  great 
Chief  of  Knights.  Sir  Lancelot  himself.      Let  us  break  his  pride!  " 

.And  tiicy  laid  their  heails  together  and  planned  to  frighten  him 
by  disguising  themselves  and  asking  him  to  cross  swords  with  one 
ot  their  number. 

Now  Lancelot  knew  the  four  at  once  and  divined  their  plan, 
liut  he  gave  no  sign.  Laughing  in  his  sleeve,  he  assumed  the  voice 
(it  Sir  Kay,  and  challenged  the  party  either  singly  or  in  a  body. 
The  knights  were  astounded,  for  they  had  expected  Sir  Kay  to 
take  Hight  distantly,  and  they  murmured  among  themselves,  but 
mirthfully  accepted  the  challenge.  Their  mirth  was  changed  to 
humiliation  when  the  supposed  seneschal  not  only  defeated  each 
in  turn  but  all  in  a  body!  .And  they  drew  away  with  hanging 
heads,  and  would  not  even  accompany  this  changed  Sir  Kay  to 
court,  as  he  Invited  them  to  do.  Bitter  as  gall  was  the  thought 
that  they,  who  considered  themselves  among  the  flower  of  Arthur's 
knights,  had  been  defeated  by  the  seneschal,  a  mere  farmer  and 
keeper  of  grain-bins,  who  scarce  knew  one  shield  from  another! 

Great  was  the  rejoicing  when  Sir  Lancelot,  after  some  further 

adventures,  finally  reached  Camelot.     The  knights  released  from 

Turqulne's  dungeon  and  Sir  Kay  had  all  arrived  before  him,  and 

loudly  had  they  praised  him.      King  Arthur  felt  that  his  beloved 

knight  had  indeed  done  him  great  service,  and  was  prepared  to 


3-)     iHi;  sroKV  OF  idvi.i.s  (jf  thf  king 

sh.HV  I., uial.it  all  h<.n..r.  A  ^;ri- it  tc;ist  was  riKulc  ready  which 
almost  rivalt-a  that  <.l  the  I'cntecost,  to  he  held  on  the  morrow. 
Praises,  jests,  and  mern.nent  ran  hij^h,  hut  prohahly  the  hap(iiest 
souls  in  all  that  vast  throng  were  the  four  knights  who  learned 
that  they  hail  tested  swords  with  the  thamiiion  hitiiself  instead  of 
the  Kind's  steuard.  Ami  in  all  the  land  of  I'.nj^land  there  was  not 
at  this  time  any  tuan,  excepting  the  Kin^  himself,  who  was  so  loved, 
so  honored  and  so  worthy  of  -11  reverence  as  Sir  Lancelot  of  the 
Lake,  son  of  King  Ban  of  Bcnwick. 


'M 


CHAP  UK  IV 

llir.    MAKklACl.    or    AKIIUR 

YOl'  will  rcmi-mbcr  that  wIuti  Arthur  was  crowned,  many 
kings  ruled  in  the  isle  of  Britain.  I'.ver  they  waged  war 
with  one  another,  laying  in  waste  a  great  part  of  the  laml, 
and  from  time  to  time  the  heathen  hosts  swarmed  froni  o\er  the 
sea  and  harried  what  was  left.  So  there  came  to  he  many  great 
tracts  of  wilderness  where  man  was  never  seen  and  where  wild 
beasts  roamed  at  will.  In  parts  of  the  wilderness  there  dwelt  a 
fearful  animal  known  as  the  loup-garou,  or  man-wolf,  a  creature, 
halt-man  and  haif-wolf,  that  devoured  men,  women  and  children. 

I  he  land  of  C'ameliard,  where  Leodogran  was  king,  suffered 
most  from  the  wild  heists  and  heathen  that  overran  its  borders. 
.Much  of  the  country  was  covered  by  thick,  wet  woods,  and  by  day 
as  well  as  by  night,  the  wild  dog,  the  wolf,  the  bear,  and  the  boar 
came  to  root  in  the  fields  and  gardens  of  the  King,  and  ever  and 
anon  they  would  steal  a  child  and  drag  him  away  to  their  foul  dens, 
Leodogran  was  greatly  troubled  and  knew  not  where  to  turn  for 
aid,  his  castle  guard  having  been  wasted  by  heathen  hordes  and 
recent  fighting  with  his  neighbor,  King  Urion.  At  last  he  heard 
of  the  crowning  of  .Arthur,  and  of  how  the  new  king  tried  faith- 
fully to  measure  justice  to  all.  So  he  sent  word  to  him,  saying: 
"  Arise,  and  help  us  I      For  here  between  man  and  beast  we  die." 

.Arthur's  tender  heart  was  filled  with  compassion,  and  he  sum- 
moned his  knights  around  him  and  bade  them  prepare  for  the 
journey.  Not  once  did  he  pause  to  think  that  he  was  yet  but 
little  used  to  battle  (for  this  was  in  the  early  days  of  his  reign), 
or  of  how  much  his  own  affairs  needed  looking  after,  for  there  was 
yet  much  bitter,  smoldering  revolt  against  him  in  his  kingdom. 

Now  it  chanced  that  as  Arthur  and  his  noble  knights  tiled  into 

31 


31       THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

the  gateway  at  Can  eliard,  Leodogran's  daughter,  the  beautiful 
Guinevere.  "  fairest  of  all  flesh  on  earth,"  was  waiting  by  the  castle 
wall  to  .ce  them  pass.  She  glanced  up,  and  the  King,  look.ng  deep 
into  her  eyes,  felt  that  her  lovely  image  was  engraved  upon  his 
heart  forever.  The  princess  drew  back,  blushing.  But  as  Arthur 
wore  no  symbol  of  his  kinghood,  and  rode  as  i  simple  knight 
among  his  followers,  many  of  whom  were  in  richer  arms  than  he, 
she  knew  him  not.  The  King  paused  not  to  reveal  himself,  but  his 
pulses  throbbed  and  he  deteimined  to  fight  a  good  battle  for  King 
Leodogran  and  ask  him  fo.  his  beautiful  daughter's  hand  as  a  re- 
ward. , 

So  Arthur  pitched  his  tent  beside  the  forest  and  drove  out  the 
heathen.  Then  he  slew  the  wild  beasts  and  felled  the  forest,  let- 
ting in  the  sun,  and  making  broad  pathways  for  the  hunter  and 
the  knigKt.  As  he  was  about  to  go  to  King  Leodogran,  a  mes- 
senger from  his  own  land  came  hurrying,  bidding  him  to  make  haste 
if  he  would  save  his  throne,  for  tne  rebel  kings  who  questioned  his 
right  to  reign  were  gathering  their  forces  once  more.  And 
Arthur  was  obliged  to  put  back  the  love  that  was  stirring  in  his 
heart  and  hurry  to  the  call  of  his  country.  But  as  he  went  he 
mused  and  pondered  about  Guinevere  and  his  own  lonely  state  as 
king  without  a  bride,  and  he  pondered  in  these  words: 

"  What  happiness  to  reign  a  lonely  king, 
Vext O  ye  st.irs  that  shudder  over  me, 

0  earth  that  soundest  hollow  under  me, 

Vext  with  waste  dreams?  for  saving  I  be  join'd 
To  her  that  is  the  fairest  under  heaven, 

1  seem  as  nothing  in  the  mighty  world, 
And  cannot  will  my  will,  nor  work  my  work 
Wholly,  nor  make  myself  in  mine  own  realm 
Victor  and  lord.     But  were  I  join'd  with  her, 
Then  might  we  live  together  as  one  life, 

And  reigning  with  one  will  in  everything, 
Have  power  on  this  Hark  land  to  lighten  it, 
And  power  on  this  dead  world  to  make  it  live." 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  ARTHUR 


33 


When  Arthur  and  uis  knights  came  to  the  field  where  the  rebel 
kings  were  drawn  up  in  battle  ranks,  the  day  became  suddenly  so 
bright  and  clear  that  "  the  smallest  rock  far  on  the  faintest  hill " 
could  be  plainly  seen,  and,  though  It  was  high  day,  the  morning 
star  shone  brightly.  As  the  King  unfurled  his  banners,  from  both 
sides  rose  loud  shouts  and  trumpet  blasts  and  clarion  calls  that 
thrilled  the  blood.  Then  with  drawn  lances  the  thousand  rebel 
hosts  came  thundering  to  meet  Arthur's  army.  And  nobly  did  the 
knights  withstand  the  shock!  There  ensued  a  great  crash  and 
clattering  of  steel,  and  now  the  barons  and  kings  prevailed  and  now 
Arthur  and  his  knights.  But  at  last  God  showed  His  hand  on 
Arthur's  side;  for  all  at  once  "  the  Powers  who  walk  the  world" 
made  lightnings  and  greac  thunders  over  the  King,  and  dazed  all 
eyes,  and  Arthur's  hands  seemed  to  grow  mightier  with  every  blow. 
Then  came  a  deep,  wonderful  voice  from  the  four  winds,  shouting, 
and  the  rebel  hosts  huddled  together  sore  afraid,  and,  when  the 
voice  ceased,  they  broke  in  wild  flight.  But  when  Arthur's  knights 
would  have  pursued  them,  dealing  death  on  every  hand,  their  peace- 
loving  King  cried :     "  Ho  !  they  yield  !  " 

"  So  like  a  painted  battle  the  war  stood 
Silenced,  the  living  quiet  as  the  dead, 
And  in  the  heart  of  Arthur  joy  was  lord." 

And  he  turned  laughingly  to  Lancelot,  his  beloved  guard,  who 
had  kept  faithfully  at  his  side  throughout  .>e  battle,  exclaiming: 
"  Thou  dost  not  doubt  me  King,  so  well  thine  arm  hath  wrought  for 
me  to-day." 

"  Sire  and  my  Liege,"  crrd  Lancelot  admiringly,  "  the  fire  of 
God  descends  upon  thee  in  the  battle-field;  I  know  thee  for  my 
King!" 

And  the  two  swore  there  on  the  field  of  death  a  deathless  love. 
And  Arthur  clasped  the  knight's  hands  in  his  own  as  he  said 
solemnly:  "  Man's  word  is  God  In  man.  Let  chance  what  will, 
I  trust  thee  to  the  death." 


if 


34      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KLXG 

As  soon  as  he  had  returned  to  Came'ot,  Arthur's  heart  and 
mind  again  turned  to  the  beautiful  Guinevere,  and  he,  therefore, 
sent  three  of  his  trusted  knights,  Ulfius,  Bras'.'is,  and  Bedivere,  with 
a  message  to  King  Leodogran,  saying:  "  If  I  in  aught  have  served 
thee  well,  give  me  thy  daughter  Guinevere  to  wife." 

King  Leodogran  was  greatly  troubled.  He  admired  Arthur  and 
was  deeply  grateful  to  him  for  ridding  Cameliard  of  its  enemies; 
also  he  saw  that  it  would  be  of  immense  advantage  to  himself  to  be 
related  to  so  powerful  a  king;  but  he  did  not  feel  like  giving  Arthur 
his  greatest  treasure,  which  was  his  only  daughter.  He  had  heard 
some  of  the  murmurings  of  the  rebel  kings  and  feared  lest  Arthur 
as  they  said  of  him,  were  not  of  royal  blood.  So  he  pondered  in 
his  heart,  being  resolved  never  to  give  his  daughter  to  any  except 
a  true  king  and  the  son  of  a  king  at  that. 

He  summoned  his  old,  gray-haired  chamberlain,  and  inquired  of 
him:     "  Know  you  aught  of  Arthur's  birth?" 

But  the  chamberlain,  whom  he  trusted  above  all  men,  could 
give  him  no  satisfaction,  and  the  King  rebuked  him  half-angrily, 
saying:  "O  friend,  had  I  been  holpen  half  as  well  by  this  King 
Arthur  as  by  thee  to-day,  then  beast  and  men  had  had  their  share 
of  me." 

Then  Ulfius,  Brastias,  and  Bedivere  were  summoned,  and  Sir 
Bedivere  ^ook  it  upon  iiimself  to  satisfy  the  King;  but  Leodogran 
doubted  sti.'l. 

Now,  either  by  chance  or  design,  for  she  was  wondrous  wise, 
Queen  Bellicent,  wife  of  Lot  of  Orkney,  and  her  two  sons  came 
knocking  at  the  castle  door  for  admittance,  and  Leodogran  was 
forced  to  make  a  feast  and  entertain  her.  As  they  sat  at  meat, 
he  remembered  that  she  was  a  kinswoman  of  King  Arthur,  and  so 
determined  to  question  her,  beginning  in  this  wise:  "A  doubtful 
throne  is  Ice  on  summer  seas.  You  come  from  Arthur's  court. 
Victor  his  men  report  him.  Yea,  but  do  you  think  this  king  — 
so  many  there  are  that  hate  him,  and  his  knights  so  few,  how- 


I 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  ARTHUR 


35 


fvrr    urave    they   be  —  hath    body    enough   to   hold   his    foemcn 

And  the  Queen,  for  reasons  best  known  to  herself,  sent  her 
sons  from  the  room,  and  told  Leodogran  all  she  knew  of  Arthur, 
giving  various  stories  that  were  afloat  concerning  his  birth,  and 
telling  how,  when  she  asked  Merlin  concerning  the  shining  dragon- 
ship  and  the  naked  child  cast  up  by  the  sea,  the  wizard  had  mocked 
her  in  riddling  rhymes,  saying: 

"  Rain,  rain,  and  sun!  a  rainbow  in  the  sky! 
A  young  man  will  be  wiser  by  and  by; 
An  old  man's  wit  may  wander  ere  he  die. 

"  Rain,  rain,  and  sun!  a  rainbow  on  the  leal 
And  truth  is  this  to  me,  and  that  to  thee; 
And  truth  or  clothed  or  naked  let  it  be. 

"  Rain,  sun,  and  rain!  and  the  free  blossom  blows; 
Sun,  rain,  and  sun!  and  where  is  he  who  knows? 
From  the  great  deep  to  the  great  deep  he  goes." 

She  told  of  Arthur's  crowning  and  the  miracles  shown  at  that 
time,  and  said  to  the  King  heartily:  "  Fear  not  to  give  Arthur 
thine  only  child,  Guinevere,  for  he  is  a  true  king,  and  Merlin  hath 
sworn  that  though  men  may  wound  him  he  will  not  die,  but  pass 
to  come  again,  and  then  or  now  utterly  smite  the  heathen  under- 
foot, till  these  and  all  men  hai)  him  for  their  king." 

Her  words  left  King  Leodogran  as  unconvinced  as  before,  and 
he  decided  to  sleep  over  the  matter.  That  night  the  truth  came 
to  him  in  a  dream,  as  truth  so  often  does  come  to  man.  He  be- 
held as  in  a  vision  Arthur  standing  crowned  in  the  heavens,  while 
all  his  foes  and  those  who  spoke  against  him  melted  away  like  mists 
before  the  morning  sun.  And  Leodogran  awoke  and  sent  word 
to  Sir  Bedivere  and  his  comrades,  bidding  them  tell  Arthur  that 
his  suit  was  granted. 

There  was  great  joy  in  Arthur's  heart  when  the  good  tidings 
were  heard,  and  he  prepared  to  have  the  marriage  take  place 


36      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

at  once.  As  urgent  state  affairs  called  for  his  presence  at  home,  he 
could  not  go  for  his  bride  himself;  so  he  asked  Sir  Lancelot  to 
go  in  his  stead.  And  Lancelot  consented  right  willingly,  for  he 
was  pleased  that  the  King  should  show  so  much  confidence  in  him. 

It  was  the  latter  part  of  April  when  Lancelot  set  out,  and 
the  May  flowers  were  blooming  when  he  left  Cameliard  on  the 
return  journey  with  the  beautiful  princess.  On  every  hand  was 
the  breath  of  spring,  life,  and  love.  Blue  isles  of  heaven  glanced 
upon  them  through  the  fresh,  shimmering  green  of  the  forest  trees, 
sunbeams  danced  madly  around  them,  the  flowers  gave  their  sweet- 
est fragrance,  and  the  birds  fairly  made  the  woods  ring  with  their 
Icve  anthems.  The  road  seemingly  lay  through  the  very  heart 
of  Nature's  most  brilliant  beauty,  and  endless  were  the  ench-'-^ting 
pictures  presented;  but  to  Lancelot  the  loveliest  picture  of  an  was 
the  Princess  Guinevere.  Clad  in  a  beautiful  gown  of  grass-green 
silk  buckled  with  golden  clasps,  and  crowned  with  a  light  green 
tuft  of  waving  plumes,  she  seemed  the  very  Queen  of  Nature  and 
type  of  all  that  the  wood-thrush  sang  in  his  dreamy  notes.  So 
charming  she  looked  as  she  lightly  sat  her  cream-white  mule  and 
swayed  the  rein  with  her  dainty  finger  tips,  that  Lancelot  felt 
a  man  might  well  give  all  his  worldly  worth  for  one  kiss  from  her 
perfect  lips,  and  in  so  thinking  failed  to  see  that  the  thought  was 
treachery  to  the  King. 

At  last  they  came  to  Camelot  and  the  waiting  King,  who 
hastened  eagerly  forward  to  greet  his  bride.  Now  as  yet  the  prin- 
ress  had  not  seen  the  King,  and  she  scanned  his  fair,  handsome 
face  eagerly,  thinking  half  discontentedly  to  herself  that  she  pre- 
ferred Lancelot's  dark  eyes  and  raven  hair  to  her  lord's  curling 
locks  of  gold  and  eyes  of  laughing  blue !  Yet  she  made  no  sign, 
and  knelt  with  Arthur  on  cloth-of-gold  before  the  beautiful,  white 
altar  of  Camelot,  where  the  great  St.  Dubric,  the  holy  head  of  the 
Church  of  Britain,  spoke  the  solemn  vows  that  made  them  one. 

"  Behold,  thy  doom  is  mine,"  said  Arthur,  speaking  the  last 
words  of  the  service  softly  and  tenderly,  his  voice  sounding  like 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  ARTHUR 


37 


sweetest    music.     "Let   chance    what    will,    I    love    thee    to    the 

death  1" 

And  the  new-made  queen  replied  with  drooping  eyes,  "  King, 
and  my  lord,  I  love  thee  to  the  death  1  " 

Then  the  holy  Dubric  spread  his  hands  in  blessing.  "  Reign  ye, 
and  live  and  love,"  he  said,  "  and  make  the  world  other,—  and  may 
thy  Queen  be  one  with  thee,  and  all  this  Order  of  thy  Table  Round 
fulfil  the  boundless  purpose  of  its  King!  " 

The  King  and  the  Queen  then  left  the  shrine  and  went  forth  into 
the  beautiful,  white  city,  which  seemed  all  on  fire  with  sun  and  cloth- 
of-gold.  Children  dressed  in  white  ran  before  them,  strewing 
flowers  in  their  pathway  and  leading  them  on  to  the  palace. 
White-garbed  knights,  rejoicing  in  Arthur's  joy,  blew  their  trumpets 
madly,  and  then  broke  forth  in  one  grand,  rich  chorus  that  seemed 
to  fill  the  very  heavens: 

"  Blow  trumpet,  for  the  world  is  white  with  May! 
Blow  trumpet,  the  long  night  hath  roU'd  aw:iy! 
Blow  thro'  the  living  world—'  Let  the  King  reign! ' 


il 


i 


"Shall  Rome  or  Heathen  rule  in  Arthur's  realm? 
Flash  brand  and  lance,  fall  battle-ax  on  helm, 
Fall  battle-ax,  and  flash  brand!     Let  the  King  reign! 


"  Strike  for  the  King  and  live!     His  knights  has-e  heard 
That  God  hath  told  the  King  a  secret  word. 
Fall  battle-ax,  and  flash  brand!     Let  the  King  reign! 


i  I 


"  Blow  trumpet!  he  will  lift  us  from  the  dust. 
Blow  trumpet!  live  the  strength  and  die  the  lust! 
Clang  battK--ax,  and  clash  brand!     Let  the  King  reign! 


"Strike  for  the  King  and  die!  and  if  thca  diest, 
The  King  is  king,  and  ever  wills  the  highest. 
Clang  battle-ax,  and  clash  b.and!     Let  the  King  reign! 


38       THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

"  Blow,  for  our  Sun  is  mighty  in  his  May! 
Blow,  for  our  Sun  is  niij^litier  day  by  day! 
Clant;  battle-ax,  and  clash  brand!     Let  the  King  reign! 


"  The  King  will  follow  Christ,  and  we  the  King, 
In  whom  high  God  hath  breathed  a  secret  thing. 
Fall  battle-ax,  and  flash  brand!     Let  the  King  reign!  " 


CHAPTER  V 
Arthur's  knemiics  at  court 

EVKS  as  Arthur  sat  at  the  wedding  banquet,  with  his  bride 
on  one  side  and  Sir  Lancelot  on  the  other,  his  enemies  could 
not  leave  him  in  peace.  In  there  came  some  lords  from 
Rome  —  delegates  of  the  Roman  Emperor  —  to  claim  tribute  as 
of  old.      But  Arthur  would  not  listen  to  them,  saying: 

"Nay,  the  old  order  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new;  tribute 
to  whom  tribute  is  due,  custom  to  whom  custom.  And  since  ye 
are  grown  too  old  and  weak  to  do  your  part  and  guard  this  realm 
from  heathen  enemies,  there  shall  be  no  more  talk  of  tribute." 

Then  the  great  lords  departed  in  anger,  and  Arthur  was  obliged 
to  go  to  war  with  Rome  to  enforce  his  word.  So  he  was  given 
but  little  time  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  his  beautiful  queen, 
and  it  was  with  a  sad  heart  that  he  left  her  in  the  care  of  Sir  Lance- 
lot and  a  few  nfher  trusted  knights  who  were  chosen  to  guard  the 
palace  and  the  ladies  of  the  Court.  But  Arthur  was  mighty  in 
battle  and  the  excitement  of  the  fray  was  music  to  his  soul,  so  the 
time  passed  rapidly,  after  all.  And  in  three  months  he  was  able 
to  turn  joyfully  homeward,  having  defeated  the  Romans  in  twelve 
great  battles  and  utterly  put  them  to  rout. 

For  a  time  Arthur  was  allowed  to  enjoy  life  In  Camelot.  There 
were  no  enemies  without  to  subdue,  and  It  seemed  as  though  his 
beautiful  dream  of  spending  the  rest  of  his  days  in  peace  was  to  be 
realized,  when  all  at  once  he  found  that  there  vere  many  traitors 
about  him.  Jealousy  was  beginning  to  creep  in,  and  here  and 
there  were  envious  souls  who  coveted  the  throne.  Every  now  and 
then  It  was  whispered  that  Arthur  was  not  the  man  to  be  king, 
that  his  strength  lay  only  In  his  powerful  sword,  Excalibur,  and  that 
without  it  he  would  be  as  nothing.     The  knights,  too,  were  slip- 

39 


I 


40      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

ping  from  their  high  standard.  Without  battles  to  fight,  time  hung 
heavily  upon  their  hands,  and  they  sapped  their  strength  with  much 
feasting,  with  unseemly  jousts,  and  bouts  at  the  gaming  tables. 
Also  the  finger  of  scorn  was  pointed  secretly  at  Sir  Lancelot  and 
Queen  Guinevere,  and  it  was  whispered  that  the  beautiful  queen 
loved  Lancelot  instead  of  the  King.  But  of  these  last  idle  whis- 
perings not  a  word  did  King  Arthur  hear.  He  was  too  pure 
and  noble  himself  to  see  aught  but  good  in  others,  and  he  did 
not  even  dream  of  doubting  his  wife  or  of  questioning  the  loyalty 
of  his  beloved  knight  whom  he  regarded  as  a  brother. 

Now  the  chief  whisperer  of  the  throng  at  Court  and  the  in- 
stigator of  most  of  the  mischief  was  one  Modred,  Arthur's  nephew, 
son  of  Queen  Bellicent  of  Orkney.  He  was  a  wily,  oily-tongued 
sc'jundrel,  who  did  all  he  could  to  work  himself  into  King  Arthur's 
good  graces  and  then  prepared  to  do  him  harm  when  his  back  was 
turned.  It  was  Modred's  desire  to  drive  .■\rthur  from  the  throne 
and  seat  himself  upon  it,  and  he  was  aided  and  abetted  in  his 
slander  of  the  Queen  by  Vivien,  the  sorceress,  who,  you  will  re- 
member, was  to  destroy  Merlin  by  shutting  him  up  in  the  hol- 
low oak.  She  hated  Arthur  because  he  was  pure  and  good  and 
refused  to  submit  to  her  charms,  and  she  knew  that  she  could 
hurt  him  most  by  bowing  low  the  head  of  the  beautiful  queen  whom 
he  loved  with  all  his  heart. 

There  was  another  who  hated  Arthur,  and  despised  and  envied 
the  Queen.  This  was  Queen  Morgan  le  Fay,  sister  to  Queen 
Bellicent  and  half-sister,  also,  to  Arthur.  Beautiful  was  she  be- 
yond description,  and  as  false  as  she  was  fair, —  a  very  fiend 
among  women.  Mistress  of  many  witches'  charms,  she  determined 
to  capture  the  sword  Excalibur,  and  have  Arthur  put  to  death; 
then  she  would  establish  her  lover  on  the  throne  as  King,  and 
reign  herself  as  Queen. 

It  was  not  hard  to  get  Excalibur,  as  Arthur  had  never  yet  re- 
alized the  need  of  keeping  it  under  guard.  So  Queen  Morgan  le 
Fay   found  out  v/here  it  was  kept,   and  bided  her  time.     Soon 


ARTHUR'S  EN  EM  IKS  AT  COURT 


41 


King  Arthur  and  her  husband,  King  Uricn,  and  Sir  Accolan,  a  brave 
but  foolish  kni^^ht  who  had  allowed  himself  to  become  smitten 
with  Queen  Morgan  !e  Fay's  charms,  felt  a  strange  desire  to  go 
hunting  in  each  other's  company,  and  set  out  together  for  the  deep 
forest.  Hardly  had  they  entered  it  when  a  young  hart  sprang 
up  in  their  pathway  anil  they  chased  it  for  many  a  weiry  mile. 
At  last  Sir  Lhicn  lamed  his  horse,  and  the  three  dismounted  and 
gave  chase  on  foot,  as  it  was  evident  that  the  hart  was  nearly  spent. 
Finally  it  disappeared  completely  and  the  men  found  themselves 
standing  hopelessly  bewiKlered  by  the  side  of  a  strange  lake.  In 
a  moment  their  eyes  took  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  deserted  ship 
riding  at  anchor  close  to  the  shore,  and  King  Arthur  proposed  that 
they  go  aboard  and  explore  her. 

They  found  the  ship  to  be  a  most  beautiful  little  vessel,  richly 
and  admirably  fitted  up,  and  they  spent  so  much  time  over  it  that 
night  was  upon  them  before  they  were  aware  of  it.  Then  there 
was  a  sound  as  of  clapping  hands,  and  in  a  twinkling  sailors  ap- 
peared on  every  side,  and  twelve  damsels,  clad  in  white,  came  and 
bowed  before  the  King  welcoming  him  warmly.  Then  they  in- 
vited the  men  to  come  out  to  supper  in  the  tiny  salon,  where  they 
pressed  all  manner  of  dainties  upon  them,  and  there  was  niuch 
feasting.  Being  weary  with  the  day's  chase,  the  men  soon  asked 
if  they  could  stay  there  for  the  night,  and  were  shown  at  once 
to  separate  sleeping  apartments  where  they  fell  immediately  into 
deep,  dreamless  slumber. 

When  King  Urien  awoke  he  found  himself  at  home  in  the 
chamber  with  his  wife.  Sitting  up,  he  stared  about  him  in  dis- 
may, half  wondering  if  the  hunt  and  what  followed  had  been  a 
dream.  Then,  catching  sight  of  the  mocking  smile  on  his  wife's 
face  as  she  watched  him  under  half-closed  lids,  he  at  once  sus- 
pected that  the  whole  business  was  one  of  her  charms,  and  doubted 
not  that  some  treason  against  Arthur  was  Intended.  But  he  spoke 
never  a  word. 

As  for  King  Arthur,  he  was  even  at  that  moment  lying  among 


It 


42      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  TRi:  KINCJ 

some  twenty  knights  in  a  distant  dungeon,  where  he  had  found 
himself  on  awakening. 

As  soon  as  his  first  surprise  was  over,  he  began  to  question  those 
about  him  and  learned  that  he  was  imprisoned  by  Sir  Uamas,  a 
wicked  knight  who  falsely  kept  from  his  inheritance  his  younger 
brother,  Sir  Ont/lake. 

"  Damas  causes  travelers  to  be  taken  prisoners  by  a  band  of 
his  robbers,"  explained  a  knight,  "  in  the  hope  that  he  will  one 
day  get  hold  of  a  champion  to  fight  and  kill  Sir  Ontzlake  for  him. 
Damas  is  a  coward  and  refuses  brave  Ont/.lake's  entreaty  that 
he  will  fight  him  single-handed  for  the  inheritance,  or  else  that  he 
will  provide  a  knight  to  fight  for  him  Now  there  is  not  among 
us  a  knight  that  would  fight  for  Damas.  We  would  far  rather 
starve  in  prison  1  " 

I  hen    the    Lord    deliver   you !  "    exclaimed   Sir   Arthur   com- 
passionately. 

As  he  spoke  a  fair  damsel  appeared  before  Arthur,  inquiring, 
"Whatchc'T?" 

"  Alas,"  answered  the  King  sadly,  "  I  know  not.  But  stay," 
he  added  quickly,  as  the  maiden  half  turned  away,  "  methinks  I 
have  seen  thee  at  the  Court  of  Arthur?" 

"  Nay,"  answered  the  maiden,  smiling  and  dimpling,  ''  I  have 
not  been  there."  Yet  it  was  a  falsehood  she  told,  for  she  was 
one  of  Morgan  le  ^^ay's  maidens  and  was  secretly  pleased  to  think 
that  the  great  king  remembered  her.  "  I  am  of  Sir  Damas'  house- 
hold, and  I  am  sent  to  tell  you  that  you  shall  be  delivered,  if  you 
will  but  consent  to  fight  a  knight  for  Sir  Damas." 

"  I  will  do  so  gladly,"  answered  Arthur,  for  he  was  of  no  mind 
to  die  in  prison.  "  If  only  I  m;iv  have  a  good  sword,  horse,  and 
armor,  and  also  if  my  fellow  prisoners  may  be  freed." 

"  All  shall  be  as  you  require,"  replied  the  maiden.  "  My  master 
will  be  greatly  pleased.  I  will  come  for  you  within  the  hour,  and 
shall  bring  with  me  your  great  sword,  Excalibur."  And  she  de- 
parted, smiling. 


ARTHUR'S  ENEMIES  AT  COURT 


43 


And  now  let  us  turn  for  a  moment  and  see  how  it  had  fared 
with  the  third  member  of  the  hunting  party,  Sir  Accolan.  He 
awoke  to  find  himself  in  the  heart  of  a  deep  forest,  and  as  he 
stood  rubbing  his  eyes  in  amazement  and  wondering  which  way 
to  turn,  a  damsel  appeared  before  him. 

"  I  bid  you  good  cheer.  Sir  Accolan,"  she  observed  smilingly 
and  curtseyed  prettily  before  him.  "  I  am  come  from  Queen 
Morgan  le  Fay.     She  bids  you  take  heart  and  follow  me." 

"Whither  dost  thou  lead?"  queried  Sir  Accolan,  half  minded 
to  turn  and  run  the  other  way,  for  he  was  sore  frightened  and 
bewildered. 

"  To  the  home  of  Sir  Ontzlake  near  at  hand,"  answered  the 
maiden.     "  He  will  aid  thee  ami  set  thee  on  the  way." 

And  so  perforce  the  knight  followed  the  maiden  and  presently 
came  to  the  Ontzlake  castle  where  the  lord  of  the  manor  welcomed 
bim  heartily  and  caused  food  to  be  set  before  him.  As  they  sat 
at  meat  a  messenger  arrived  from  Sir  Damas,  bidding  Sir  Ontz- 
lake to  present  himself  at  two  o'clock  near  the  old  tower  if  he 
wished  to  test  his  strength  for  the  inheritance. 

"  Alas,"  mourned  Sir  Ontzlake,  "  'tis  the  opportunity  I  most  de- 
sire, but  it  has  come  at  an  ill-fated  time.  Here  am  I  with  a  broken 
rib  and  a  severe  lance  wound  In  my  sword  arm.  How  can  I  fight 
and  come  ofif  victorious?  Yet  if  I  do  not  consent,  my  brother  will 
never  again  make  the  offer  and  I  shall  forever  lose  my  birthright  I 
Wee  is  me !  " 

"  Indeed,  Sir  Ontzlake,"  cried  Sir  Accolan  quickly.  "  You  are 
in  sore  st.aitsi  Allow  me  to  offer  myself  in  your  stead.  'Twould 
be  a  pleasure  to  do  this  thing  for  you  in  return  for  the  kindness 
you  have  shown  me." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  friend,  and  the  Lord  reward  you !  "  an- 
swered Sir  Ontzlake  warmly.  "  I  am  minded  to  accept  your  aid  in 
the  same  spirit  in  which  you  offer  It.  You  aie  a  brave  and  noble 
knight,  and  a  man  after  my  own  heart!  If  you  will  do  this  thing 
tor  me  then  you  need  never  want  for  a  friend  so  long  as  Harry 


44       lin-   S'lORV  OK  IDYLLS  OF   II IL  KlNCi 

Ont^lakc  lives!      Ami  you  may  commarul  nic  even  to  the  half  of 
my  Inheritance,  and  it  is  thme!  " 

"  Zounds!  man,  say  no  more,"  cried  Sir  Accolan.  "  Is  it  not 
reward  enough  if  1  may  call  thee  friend?  Have  1  not  heard  of 
thy  ^oodtiess  and  bounty  and  how  thou  art  beloved  of  all  within 
thy  j^atis?  Then,  too,  I  am  of  ihc  Court  of  Arthur  and  sworn 
to  help  all  worthy  persons  in  need  of  aid.  Provide  me  with  sword 
and  arms  at  once,  1  pray  thee.     I  but  do  my  duty." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  at  precisely  two  o'clock  King  Arthur 
and  Sir  Accolan  rushed  upon  each  other,  both  having  been  so 
changed  in  that  lonj,',  dreamless  sleep  that  neither  one  recognized 
the  ottier.  I'rom  the  very  first  the  battle  was  fierce,  for  both 
were  skilled  swordsmen,  and  many  were  the  admiring  shouts  drawn 
from  the  bystanders,  who  were  composed  of  Sir  Damas  and  his 
household,  the  knights  fiom  the  dun-reon,  and  Sir  Ontzlake  and 
his  retainers. 

Soon  King  Athur  wr-j  covered  with  blood,  while  his  assailant 
showed  scarce  a  wound,  and  Arthur  marveled  much.  It  seemed 
to  him  as  though  Excalibur  swung  lightly  in  his  hand  and  refused 
to  bite  steel  as  he  was  wont  to  do.  And  presently  he  became  con- 
vinced that  there  was  treachery  somewhere  and  felt  sure  that  his 
opponent  held  the  real  Excalibur,  for  tne  two  swords  were  seem- 
ingly alike,  and  he  knew  that  his  sister,  Morgan  le  Fay,  whom  the 
damsel  said  had  sent  the  sword,  had  played  him  false.  All  at 
once  Arthur's  s  nr.l  snapped  ofif  close  to  the  hilt,  and  he  was  weak 
and  faint  and  f<  it  that  he  must  die,  yet  he  was  too  proud  and  brave 
to  cry  for  quarter. 

"  Zounds,  man !  "  cried  Sir  Accolan  admiringly,  "  you  are  the 
bravest  knight  that  ever  swung  sword."  And  all  present  felt  that 
he  spoke  truly  and  marveled  how  Arthur  could  fight  as  he  did, 
being  so  sorely  wounded.  "Will  you  not  give  in,  friend?  I  dis- 
like to  slay  a  defenseless  man!  You  can  fight  no  longer  wiih  a 
broken  sword!  "  said  Sir  Accolan. 

Then  a  strange  thing  happened.     There  came  a  sound  as  of  the 


ARTHUR'S  KNEMIKS  AT  COl'RT 


4^ 


rusliing  of  many  waters  and  the  I.ady  of  the  Lake  appeared  in 
a  cloud  of  mist  and  stood  at  Arthur's  siile.  But  he  saw  her  not. 
At  that  momciit  he  maile  a  wild,  despairin^j  charj^c  at  Sir  Ac- 
colan,  striking  him  with  the  hilt  of  his  broken  sword  and  so  daz- 
ing him  that  he  lunged  forward  and  dropped  his  own.  In  a  mo- 
ment Arthur  sprang  forward  and  caught  it  up,  and  gave  a  mad 
shout  as  he  recognized  it.  For  it  was  I'lxcalihur  which  he  had  in 
his  hand,  and  the  jewels  which  had  beamed  dull  in  the  hands  of 
Sir  Accolan  now  shone  brightly  and  gave  forth  a  light  as  of  many 
torches,  and  the  people  huddled  together  amazed. 

Then  Arthur  cried  compassionately  to  hi  opponent,  who  had 
struggled  to  his  feet  but  remained  standing  with  his  head  bowed 
so  that  he  saw  not  the  miracles:  "  PViend,  will  you  not  ask  for 
mercy?  I  care  not  to  kill  you  when  you  are  not  in  the  wrr.ig 
and  fight  the  battle  of  another!  " 

But  Sir  Accolan  shook  his  head.  "  Alas,  brave  knight,  I  thank 
you,  but  I  can  not  do  it.  My  swordsman's  pride  is  too  great.  Do 
your  duty  according  to  custom.  But  first  tell  me  from  what  Court 
aie  you,  for  I  never  before  saw  so  brave  a  man!  '* 

As  he  spoke  he  raised  his  eyes,  and  in  that  moment  the  Lady 
of  the  Lake  made  a  few  strange  passes  and  the  change  which  had 
disguised  the  faces  of  Arthur  and  Sir  Accolan  rolled  away.  E'ach 
knew  the  other  and  fell  back  amazed. 

"Alas!  my  King!"  cried  Sir  Accolan,  in  a  voice  choked  with 
horror  and  lears.  "Thy  forgiveness  I  Implore!  I  knew  thee 
not,  else  had  I  died  rather  than  strike  thee!  " 

"  It  is  freely  granted,  my  friend  and  most  brave  knI^iht,"  an- 
swered Arthur  kindly.  "  I  know  you  fought  me  blindly.  'Tis 
the  work  of  my  wicked  sister,  Morgan  le  F'ay,  the  enchantress. 
She  would  fain  see  me  slain."  Then  he  turned  angrily  to  Sir 
D  imas  and  flashed  the  light  of  Excalibur  into  his  eyes  so  that  he 
wns  sore  afraid  and  trembled  until  his  kr.ees  smote  together.  "  Sir 
Damas  there  will  be  no  more  fighting  to-day!  I  command  thee 
to  give  to  thy  brother,  Sir  Ontzlake,  his  full  share  of  the  inheritance, 


% 


46      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

and  so  to  live  that  thou  shalt  be  an  honor  to  thy  country  and  the 
peerage  I  If  thou  dost  this  not,  then  shall  thy  life  be  the  for- 
feit!" 

So  saying,  the  King  turned  about  and  beckoned  to  Sir  Accolan 
signifying  his  readiness  to  depart.  But  ere  they  could  start,  Sir 
Ontzlake  came  fonvard  and  kneeled  before  the  King,  begging  him 
.and  Sir  Accolan  to  come  home  with  him  and  be  his  guests  until 
the  morrow  for  darkness  was  even  then  descending  upon  them. 
This  thr  King  gladly  consented  to  do,  and  when  morning  dawned 
Sir  Ontzlake  not  only  provided  them  with  horses  to  make  the 
journey  but  petitioned  King  Arthur  to  swear  him  into  the  Order 
of  the  Round  Table  that  he  might  dwell  with  him  and  his  knights 
forever. 

In  this  -vay  Queen  Morgan  le  Fay's  scheme  had  failed,  and  she 
knew  it  on  the  instant  and  fled  with  all  speed  from  the  Court  lest 
Arthur  wreak  vengeance  upon  her  when  he  came  home.  But 
Arthur's  knights  told  him  where  she  had  gone,  and  when  Sir  Ac- 
colan died  from  his  wou:  ds  four  days  after  reaching  Camelot, 
Arthur  caused  his  remains  to  be  placed  upon  a  bier  and  sent  to 
her,  under  guard  of  six  knights,  with  the  following  message: 

"Behold  your  work!  Take  your  lover  and  mourn  him  well! 
But  see  that  you  plan  no  more  treason  for  I  have  my  sword  Ex- 
calibur  again." 

This  message  Mled  Morgan  'e  Fay  with  bitter  anger,  but  she 
was  nearly  heartbroken  over  the  loss  of  Sir  Accolan,  and  fdt  that 
she  cared  not  to  reign  as  queen  if  she  could  not  have  him  on  the 
throne  beside  her.  So  she  nursed  her  wrath  quietly,  and  gave  no 
sign.  And  because  of  this  Arthur  was  merciful  and  would  not  al- 
low his  knights  to  go  after  her  and  burn  her  at  the  stake,  as  they 
wished  to  do. 

•After  many  days  there  came  to  Arthur  one  of  Queen  Morgan  le 
F'^iy's  handmaid -ns  bearing  a  "  peace-offering."  It  was  a  most 
heautiful  cloak,  all  decorated  and  embroidered  with  beautiful  stones. 
And  .Arthur  was  pleased  for  he  though:  his  sister  had  repented, 


ARTHUR'S  ENEMIES  AT  COURT 


47 


I 


inasmuch  as  the  maiden  assured  him  solemnly  that  the  queen  de- 
sired to  make  amends  for  the  wrong  she  had  done  him. 

As  the  King  extended  his  hands  to  receive  the  cloak,  a  blinding 
mist  fell  upon  those  who  stood  near,  and  when  they  could  see 
clearly  again  they  beheld  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  whispering  to 
Arthur.  And  the  King's  brow  grew  black,  but  at  the  end  of  the 
conference  he  turned  quietly  to  the  damsel  and  observed  softly: 
"  Damsel,  let  me  first  see  this  cloak  upon  you,  that  I  may  the  better 
observe  it." 

The  damsel  smilingly  obeyed  him  and  threw  the  cloak  about 
her  shoulders.  The  next  moment  the  girl  fell  dead  at  the  feet 
of  the  King.  A  great  clamor  then  ensued  and  the  knights  de- 
manded that  they  be  allowed  to  go  out  and  wreak  vengeance  upon 
the  queen  for  the  death  blow  which  the'r  beloved  King  had  so 
narrowly  escaped. 

At  first  Arthur  would  r  consent,  but  when  Lancelot  and  Queen 
Guinevere  had  added  their  pleadings  to  the  others,  he  gave  way 
nd  allowed  Lancelot  and  Ontzlake  to  lead  a  party  against  her. 
Tlie  queen's  spies  informed  her  that  they  were  coming,  and  when 
they  reached  her  castle  she  and  her  castle  knights  had  fled  into 
the  forest.  But  all  to  no  purpose,  for  the  knights  pursued  her 
hotly  and  eagerly,  and  the  queen  soon  saw  that  unless  she  re- 
sorted to  witchcraft  she  would  be  taken.  So  she  changed  herself 
and  her  knights  into  columns  of  stone.  Soon  Lancelot  and  Ontz- 
lake lost  the  trail  nor  could  they  find  it  again,  and  they  finally 
paused  beside  the  very  column  of  stone  which  hid  the  queen  and 
gave  vent  to  their  wrath  and  disappointment. 

For  many  days  the  knights  tarried  in  the  forest,  but  they  finally 
gave  up  the  search  and  v  "-;  back  to  Camelot.  Then  the  queen 
resurrected  herself  and  h  men  and  they  went  away  to  the  north 
of  England;  nor  did  she  ever  dare  to  show  herself  in  the  Court 
of  Arthur  again.  But  her  husband.  King  Urien,  remained  one  of 
.Arthur's  most  faithful  knights  until  his  death,  having  wisely  ac- 
cept d  the  advice  of  Arthur  when  he  counseled  him,  saying: 


48      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

"  Thy  wife,  my  sister  Morgan  ie  Fay,  is  as  false  as  she  is  fair. 
Cleave  not  unto  her.  I  know  from  the  mouth  of  Sir  Accolan  that 
she  intended  to  do  away  with  thee  and  crown  him  King,  had  she 
succeeded  in  her  evil  designs  against  me.  Of  course,  I  can  have 
no  one  from  her  household  in  my  Court,  but  I  desire  thee  to  re- 
main if  so  thou  hast  naught  to  do  with  her,  for  I  think  thou  hast 
never  been  a  party  to  her  evil  doings.  But  there  are  some  among 
her  kinsmen  that  must  be  banished." 

Sir  Unvvain  and  Sir  Baumain,  nephews  of  Queen  Morgan  le 
Fay,  who  had  openly  aided  her,  were  then  banished  from  the 
Court,  and  afterward  made  great  trouble  for  Arthur  by  stirring 
up  rebellions  among  the  border  ki.igs  and  by  annoying  him  in 
many  petty  ways.  But  the  wily  Modred,  guiltiest  soul  among 
them,  managed  to  escape  the  suspicions  of  Arthur  and  remained 
at  Court  to  hatch  the  worst  conspiracy  of  all — the  breaking  up 
of  the  Round  Tabic  and  the  death  of  the  noble  King. 


CHAPTER  VI 


GARETII    OF   ORKNEY 

QUEEN  BELLICENT,  wife  of  Lot  of  Orkney,  and  half- 
sister  to  Kmg  Arthur,  was  the  mother  of  three  stalwart 
sons.  Two  of  them,  Sir  Modred  and  Sir  Gawain,  were 
knights  of  King  Arthur,  as  we  have  already  seen.  The  third 
and  youngest,  Gareth,  tallest,  cleanest-limbed  and  most  noble  of 
them  all,  was  still  at  home.  And  though  he  chafed  to  go  and 
help  to  work  the  will  of  Arthur  in  cleansing  the  world,  his  mother, 
foolish   in   her  love   and   worship   jf  him,  would  not  consent. 

"  My  son,"  she  was  wont  to  say  in  answer  to  his  eager  plead- 
ings, "hast  thou  no  pity  for  my  loneliness?  Lo,  thy  father,  Lot, 
lies  like  a  log  all  day  beside  the  hearth!  He  is  old  and  unfit  to 
manage  his  estates,  and  both  thy  brethren  are  in  Arthur's  hall. 
Red  berries  ever  charm  the  young  bird,  but  stay  ihou  with  me, 
my  best  beloved!  Rule  well  thy  father's  kingdom:  follow  the 
deer  —  sweet  is  the  chase  —  and  let  wars  and  jousts  and  tourna- 
ments pass  by.  Make  thy  manhood  mightier  day  by  day  by  do- 
ing thy  duty  faithfully  here  at  Orkney  till  I  am  old  and  passed 
away,  and  I  will  seek  thee  out  some  fair  bride  to  grace  thy  home 
and  halls  and  comfort  us!  Stay,  my  best  son,  thou  art  yet  more 
boy  than  man!  '' 

And  once  Gareth,  overwrought,  answered  thus:  "Aye,  and 
as  you  hold  me  yet  for  a  child,  hear  now  the  story  of  a  child  that 
might  be  like  me:  Mother,  there  was  once  a  king  whose  heir, 
when  tall  and  marriageable,  asked  for  a  bride;  and  thereupon 
the  King  set  two  before  him.  One  was  fair,  strong-armed  —  but 
to  be  won  by  force  —  and  many  men  desired  her;  one,  good  lack, 
no  man  desired.  And  these  were  the  conditions  of  the  King:  that 
save  he  won  the  first  by  force,  he  needs  must  wed  that  ether,  whom 

49 


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50      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

no  man  desired,— a  red-faced  bride  who  knew  !.erself  so  vile  that 
evermore  she  longed  to  hide  herself.  And  one,  they  called  her 
Hme;  and  the  other  one  was  Shame!  Oh,  Mother,  how  can  you 
keep  me  here  tethered  to  you?  Man  am  I  grown;  a  man's  work 
must  I  do.  follow  the  deer?  No!  Follow  the  Christ,  the 
King;  live  pure,  speak  true,  right  wrong,  follow  the  King  — else 
wherefore  born?" 

And  the  mother  sought  once  more  to  dissuade  him,  and  spoke 
of  the  doubt  in  the  minds  of  some  people  as  to  whether  Arthur 
really  were  the  true  king,  closing  with  the  entreaty:     "Stay  till 
the  cloud  that  settles  around  his  birth  hath  lifted  but  a  little      Stay 
sweet  son!  " 

Then  Gareth  answered  quickly:  "  Nay,  Mother,  not  one  hour, 
so  that  you  yield  me.  I  would  walk  through  fire,  Mother,  to  gain 
your  full  leave  to  go!  And  who  can  say  Arthur  is  not  p. oven 
king?  Who  swept  the  dust  of  ruined  Rome  from  off  the  thresh- 
old of  our  realm,  crushed  the  Idolaters,  and  made  the  people  free? 
Who  should  be  king  save  he  who  makes  us  free?  " 

But  Queen  Bellicent  answered  not  his  quick  questions,  her  keen 
mind  having  taken  hold  of  what  he  was  willing  to  endure,  and 
seemingly  shown  her  a  way  of  escape.  "And  will  yoM  walk 
through  fire?  "  she  queried  craftily.  "  He  who  walks  through  fire 
will  hardly  heed  the  smoke.  Aye,  go  then,  if  you  must,  but  before 
you  ask  the  King  to  make  you  knight,  I  demand  one  proof  of  your 
obedience  and  your  love  of  me." 

And  Gareth  cried  in.patiently :  "  A  hard  one,  or  a  hundred,  so 
1  go!     Give  me  the  proof  and  test  me  to  the  quick!  " 

"  Prince,"  saic  the  queen  mother,  speaking  slowly,  "  thou  shalt 
go  disguised  to  Arthur's  hall,  and  hire  thyself  to  serve  for  meats 
and  drinks  among  the  scullions  and  the  kitchen-knaves,  and  those 
that  hand  the  dish  across  the  bar.  Nor  shnlt  thou  tell  thy  name 
to  any  one.     And  thou  shalt  serve  a  twelve-month  and  a  day." 

In  this  way  the  queen  hoped  to  discourage  him;  for  she  felt 
that  if  there  were  no  way  open  to  glory  for  her  princely-proud 


GARETH  OF  ORKNEY  51 

son  excepting  through  the  avenue  of  the  kitchen-vassalage,  the  poor- 
est post  in  the  King's  household,  he  would  give  up  the  idea.  But 
she  tiid  not  know  Gareth  of  Orkney! 

Only  a  moment  he  pondered,  and  then  answered  sadly:  "The 
thrall  in  person  may  be  kee  In  soul,  and  I  shall  see  the  jousts. 
Thy  son  am  I,  and  since  thou  art  my  mother,  must  obey.  I  there- 
fore yield  me  freely  to  thy  will.  So  hence  will  I,  disguised,  and  hire 
myself  to  serve  with  scullions  and  with  kitchen-knaves;  nor  tell  my 
name  to  any  —  no,  not  the  King." 

Great  was  the  chagrin  and  grief  of  Queen  Belllcent  when  he 
accepted  her  terms,  and  Gareth,  seeing  this,  tarried  for  a  few  days, 
for  he  loved  his  mother  and  disliked  to  leave  her  in  sorrow.  And 
there  arose  in  the  queen's  heart  a  hope  that  he  would  resolve  to 
stay.  But  one  morning,  while  the  castle  household  was  yet  asleep, 
Garetii  summoned  his  courage  and  clad  himself  like  a  tiller  of  the 
soil;  and  taking  with  him  his  two  faithful  serving-men,  who  had 
waited  upon  him  since  a  child,  he  disguised  them  also,  and  quietly 
set  out  for  the  Court  of  Arthur. 

lor  two  days  they  journeyed  to  the  southward  and  then  on 
the  third,  a  bright,  beautiful  morning  near  Whitsuntide,  they  came 
to  the  wonderful  gates  of  Camelot,  where  they  held  their  breath 
in  amazement.  And  as  they  stood  with  shining  eyes  drinking  in 
the  beauty  of  the  white  city,  they  heard  a  blast  of  strange,  sweet 
music,  and  an  old,  gray-bearded  man  came  forth  and  inquired  of 
them:     "  Who  be  ye,  my  sons?" 

And  Gareth  answered  straightway:  "  We  be  tillers  of  the  soil, 
come  to  see  the  glories  of  the  King.  But  your  city  moves  so  weirdly 
in  the  mist  that  these,  my  men,  doubt  If  the  King  be  king  at  all, 
or  come  from  Fairyland;  and  whether  this  city  be  built  by  magic 
or  by  fairy  kings  and  queens;  or  whether,  indeed,  there  be  any  city 
at  all,  or  all  a  vision;  and  this  music  now  hath  brightened  them 
both,  but  do  you  tell  them  the  tnith." 

Now  the  old  man  was  really  Merlin  in  disguise,  and  he  aw 
through  their  pretense  at  once,  hut  he  answered  Gareth  soberly. 


52      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

though  his  eyes  twinkled,  "  Son.  I  have  seen  the  good  ship  sail  keel 
upwards  in  the  heavens,  and  solid  turrets  topsy-turvy  in  the  air. 
And  here  is  truth;  but  if  it  pleases  thee  not,  take  thou  the  truth 
as  thou  hast  told  it  to  me!  Truly  as  thou  sayest,  son,  fairy  kings 
and  queens  have  built  this  city.  They  came  from  out  a  sacred 
mountain-cleft  toward  the  sunrise,  each  with  a  harp  in  hand,  and 
built  it  to  the  music  of  their  harps.  And  as  thou  sayest,  son,  it 
is  enchanted ;  for  there  is  nothing  in  it  as  it  seems,  saving  the  King. 
And  take  thou  heed  of  him;  for  thou  art  not  what  thou  secmest, 
and  thou  goest  up  to  mock  the  King,  who  can  uot  brook  the  shadow 
of  any  lie  I  " 

Then  Merlin  motioned  toward  the  gates  and  himself  turned 
sadly  away,  leaving  Gareth  filled  with  wonder  and  awe.  And  then 
it  dawned  upon  the  youth  that  he  had  been  speaking  with  Merlin, 
and  he  laughed  joyously  and  entered  with  his  two  followers.  But 
nevertheless  his  heart  jumped  into  his  throat  as  he  went  onward; 
and  when  he  finally  came  to  the  hall  where  the  great  Arthur  Pen- 
dragon  sat  crowned  on  his  throne,  his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof 
of  his  mouth  for  very  fear  and  his  knees  smote  together.  "  For 
this  half-shadow  of  a  lie  that  I  am  acting,  the  truthful  King  will 
doom  me  when  I  speak,"  he  thought  sorrowfully,  and  timidly  he 
glanced  around  half  fearing  that  one  or  the  other  of  his  brothers, 
Gawain  or  Modred,  would  recognize  and  unthinkingly  betray  him, 
but  he  saw  neither  of  them.  Their  absence  gave  him  courage, 
and  he  glanced  about  eagerly,  noting  the  many  knights  who  stood 
with  their  eyes  upon  their  ch'ef  in  love  and  faith. 

And  as  Gareth  watched  and  waited,  people  came  before  the 
King  with  pleas  for  aid  and  justice,  and  the  King  heard  their 
causes  one  by  one  and  delivered  judgment;  and  none  who 
cried  for  succor  cried  in  vain.  And  justice  was  meted  out  after 
this  manner: 

First  there  came  a  widow  to  the  King,  crying:  "A  boon.  Sir 
King!  Thy  father,  Uther,  took  from  my  lord  a  field  by  violence. 
I  pray  thee  make  it  right." 


GARETH  OF  ORKNEY  SJ 

And   Arthur  asked:     "What  wouldst  thou,   woman,  field  or 

gold?" 

"  The  field,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  woman,  weeping,  "  for  it 
was  pleasant  In  my  husband's  eyes." 

So  Arthur,  smiling,  said:  "  Have  thy  pleasant  fn-^d  again,  and 
thrice  the  gold  for  Uther's  use  thereof,  according  to  the  years. 
No  boon  is  here;  just  common  justice,  so  thy  stor  be  proven  true. 
Accursed  be  he  who  from  the  wrongs  his  father  did  would  shape 
himself  aright  I  " 

And  so  the  tales  went  on,  and  as  each  tale  of  suffering  was 
recited,  some  knight  would  cry:  "A  boon,  Sir  King!  (Vive  me 
the  leave  to  riglit  this  wrong!  " 

The  King  would  grant  the  boon,  and  the  knight  would  ride 
away  to  redress  the  wrong,  glad  indeed  to  be  of  some  small  service 
in  doing  battle  for  the  Christ  and  his  most  blameless  King. 
Finally  there  came  a  messenger  from  King  Mark  of  Cornwall, 
bearing  a  magnificent  present  '  cloth-of-gold  which  he  laid  at 
Arthur's  feet,  and  kneeling,  he  asked  that  Mark  be  made  a  knight 
of  the  Round  Table. 

"  Just  Heaven !  "  cried  Arthur,  rising  in  mighty  wrath,  for  Mark 
was  a  traitorous,  lying  king,  a  coward  who  struck  in  the  dark 
when  his  foe's  back  was  turned.  "Hear  I  aright?  Dare  hat 
traitor  ask  for  a  place  for  his  shield  here  among  these  my  tri.ted 
knights  and  true?  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  King  waved  his  hands  toward  the  side  walls, 
and  Gareth  observed  that  on  either  hand  was  a  treble  row  of  shields 
with  a  knight's  name  engraven  beneath  each.  A  knight  standing 
near  him  explained  in  a  low  voice  that  it  was  Arthur's  custom  when 
a  knight  had  done  one  noble  deed  to  have  his  arms  carved,  and 
for  each  other  knightly  deed  he  did  a  jewel  was  added.  And 
Arthur  straightway  looked  for  his  brothers'  shields  and  saw 
Gawaln's  all  bright  and  shining  with  jewels,  but  Modred's  was  dim 
and  blank  as  death. 

Then  Garcth's  eyes  wandered  back  to  Arthur,  and  he  saw  him 


54      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF   IHE  KING 

rend  the  cloth  In  two  and  cast  it  upon  the  blazing  hearth,  crc  he 
turned  to  the  shrinking  messenger.  "  Thy  Mark  hath  tarnished 
the  great  name  ot  King,  and  he  would  sully  the  low  state  of  churl  I 
But,  seeing  he  hath  sent  us  cloth-of-gold,  return  thou  and  hold 
him  from  our  eyes  lest  we  lap  him  up  In  cloth  of  lead!  Craven, 
man  of  plots,  craft,  poisonous  counsels,  wayside  ambushings — " 
Then  the  great  King  paused,  silenced,  perhaps,  by  the  frightened 
expression  of  the  man  who  cowered  before  him,  and  said  kindly: 
"  'Tis  no  fault  of  thine,  man.  Seneschal,  take  him  hence  and  satisfy 
his  hunger  ere  he  leaves  the  Court.  Accursed  be  he  who  strikes 
and  lets  not  his  hand  be  seen  I  '* 

Gareth  was  next  in  line,  and,  for  a  moment,  his  heart  coun- 
seled him  to  turn  and  run,  but  he  subdued  It  and  advanced  bravely, 
leaning  on  his  men.  "A  boon,  Sir  King!  For  see  you  not  how 
weak  and  hunger-worn  I  seem,  leaning  on  these?  Grant  me  to 
serve  for  meat  and  drink  among  your  kitchen-knaves  a  twelve- 
month and  a  day,  nor  seek  my  name.     Hereafter  I  will  fight." 

The  King  answered  him,  saying:  "  A  goodly  youth  and  worth 
a  goodlier  boon!  But  so  thou  wilt  no  goodlier,  then  must  Sir  Kay 
be  thy  master." 

Then  the  King  rose  and  departed,  and  the  knights  went  their 
several  ways.  All  this  time  Sir  Lancelot's  keen,  dark  eyes  had 
been  observing  Gareth,  and  he  now  came  over  to  Sir  Kay  counseling 
him  to  treat  the  lad  kindly;  for  he  believed  him  to  be  some  noble 
youth  in  disguise,  some  king's  son  bent  on  having  a  lark. 

But  Sir  Kay  secretly  despised  Lancelot,  so  he  roughly  bade 
him  mind  his  own  business.  And  for  this  kindly  meant  interference 
he  made  Gr  cth  suffer  all  the  more.  He  called  him  Sir  Fine-face 
and  Sir  Fair-hands,  and  gave  him  the  rudest  place  in  the  castle 
for  his  bed,  caused  him  to  be  served  with  the  roughest  food,  and 
forced  him  to  do  work  beyond  his  strength.  But  for  all  this  Gareth 
never  murmured.  Bravely  he  bowed  himself  to  obedience  and 
wrought  with  kindly  plcasance  for  the  King,  gracii  u:  each  lowly 
act  In  the  doing  of  It. 


CARET  1 1  OF  ORKNEY 


S5 


And  when  the  kitchcn-kiiavcs  talked  amon^j  themselves,  they 
would  tell  the  love  that  hound  the  Kin^  and  Lancelot  —  how  the 
King  hail  saved  his  lite  in  battle  twice,  and  Lancelot  once  the  King's, 
for  Lancelot  was  the  first  in  tournament,  but  Arthur  mightiest  on 
the  hattle-field, —  and  Gareth  was  glad.  Or  they  would  tell  how 
ontc  the  wandering  forester  at  dawn,  far  over  the  blue  towns  and 
ha/y  seas,  found  the  King,  a  naked  babe,  of  whom  the  prophet 
spake :  "  He  passes  to  the  Isle  of  Avalon.  I  le  passes  and  is  healed 
and  can  not  die  " — and  Gareth  rejoiced  in  their  tale. 

But  if  their  talk  was  foul,  then  would  he  whistle  rapid  as  any 
lark,  or  carol  some  old  song  so  loudly  that  at  first  they  mocked, 
but  after  came  to  reverence  him.  And  if  a  tale  of  knightly  deeds 
and  daring  were  wanted,  then  Gareth's  was  the  tongue  to  spin  it; 
and  he  held  all  the  knaves  spell-bound  till  Sir  Kay's  angry  voice 
would  be  heard  and  they  would  scatter  like  leaves  before  the  wind. 
And  if,  perchance,  the  knaves  chanced  to  play  at  jousts,  then  Gareth 
easily  won  above  all  the  rest.  And  so  life  went  on  for  a  month 
or  more,  until  the  queen,  his  mother,  repented  of  the  hard  vows 
she  had  made  her  beloved  boy  swear,  and  sent  arms  and  a  kindly 
message  to  release  him. 

Then  the  heart  of  Gareth  rejoiced.  He  laughed;  he  ran;  he 
leaped,  and  finally  presented  himself  all  breathless  before  .Arthur 
and  told  him  all:  "Sire  and  my  Liege,"  he  cried,  "I  have 
staggered  thy  strong  Gawain  in  a  tilt  for  pastime;  yea,  he  said  it: 
joust  can  L  NLike  me  thy  knight  in  secret!  Let  my  name  be 
hidden,  and  give  me  the  first  quest!  " 

The  great  King  smiled  in  sympathy  with  him  and  observed 
gently:  "  Son,  thy  good  mother  let  me  know  of  this,  and  askeii  me 
to  yield  thy  wish.  But,  make  thee  my  knight?  Sir,  my  knights 
arc  sworn  to  vows  of  utter  hardihood,  utter  gentleness,  utter  faith- 
fulness in  love,  and  utter  obedience  to  the  King." 

And  Gareth  answered  from  his  knees:  "My  King,  for  hardi- 
hood I  can  promise  thee.  For  uttermost  obedience,  ask  the 
seneschal,   who,   by   the   way,   is  no   mellow  master  of  meats   and 


56      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

drinks!  For  loving,  1  love  not  yet,  but  if  it  pleases  fortune  to 
send  me  the  maiden  of  my  dreams,  I  can  love  truly,  (jod  willing." 

King  Arthur  was  pleasetl  with  the  boy's  reply,  and  consented 
to  make  him  a  kni^;ht  privately,  providing  his  good  friend  and 
counselor.  Sir  Lancelot,  did  not  object. 

So  Lancelot  was  sent  for  and  entered  heartily  into  the  plan, 
and  Gareth  was  knighted  and  danced  away  to  the  kitchen,  still 
in  disguise.  Then  the  K  ng  turned  to  his  favorite  knight  and  spoke 
gravely,  saying:  "Lancelot,  I  have  given  him  the  first  quest. 
He  is  not  proven.  Look,  therefore,  when  he  calls  for  this  in  the 
hall;  get  you  to  horse  and  follow  him  far  away.  Cover  the  lions 
on  your  shield,  that  no  man  may  know  you,  and  see  as  far  as  you 
may  that  he  be  not  slain  or  taken  prisoner." 

Now  it  happened  that  early  the  next  morning  there  came  into 
Arthur's  hall  a  beautiful  maiden  of  high  lineage.  Like  the  May- 
blossom  was  her  brow  from  which  the  golden-brown  hair  rippled 
back,  her  cheeks  rivaled  the  bloom  of  the  delicate  apple  blossom, 
her  eyes  gleamed  like  the  starry  night,  her  nose  tip-tilted  like  the 
petal  of  a  flower,  and  all  about  her  was  an  airy  gracefulness  and 
perfume  that  made  poor  Gareth's  head  swim. 

Very  proud  was  this  maiden,  with  opinions  of  her  own,  and 
she  proved  them  straightway  by  daring  to  lecture  the  King.  "  O 
King,"  she  cried,  "  you  have  driven  away  the  foe  without,  why 
suffer  you  the  foe  within?  Every  bridge,  ford,  and  tower  for 
half  a  league  around  is  beset  by  bandits!  Why  sit  you  there? 
If  /  were  King,  I  would  not  rest  until  even  the  loneliest  hollow 
were  as  free  from  bloodshed  as  your  altar  doth!  " 

"  Comfort  thyself,"  said  Arthur  softly,  th(  ugh  his  eyes 
twinkled  and  he  was  secretly  much  amused,  "  neither  I  nor  mine 
rest.  If  my  knights  keep  the  vows  they  swore,  the  meanest  moor- 
land  of  our  realm  shall  in  time  be  as  safe,  damsel,  as  the  center 
of  this  hall.     But  pray  what  is  thy  name?     And  what  thy  need?  " 

Pleased  by  the  courteous,  kindly  manner  of  the  King,  the  maiden 
spoke  more  gently:     "  My  name  is  Lynetc;.     I  am  come  to  seek 


GARETH  OF  ORR.nEY 


Vf 


aid  for  my  sister,  the  Lady  I.yonors,  who  is  imprisoned  in  Castle 
I'erilous  by  a  wicked  knight  who  seeks  to  force  her  to  wed  h  in. 
Now  this  castle  is  wound  about  by  three  loops  of  a  river,  and  over 
it  arc  three  passings.  Fad-  passing  is  defended  by  a  knight,  and 
there  is  a  fourth  one,  n  ji  c  pow<rful  than  all  the  ntlicrs,  who 
defend  th  castle.  And  i  demand  of  thee  thy  chief  knight,  Sir 
I..      L'lot,  to  overcome  these  men,  for  no  oilier  can  do  itl  " 

"Ah  I"  observed  the  King,  still  speaking  softly,  but  with  his 
mind  fixed  xx^on  the  lad,  Ciareth,  to  whom  he  now  regretted  he 
had  been  unwise  enough  to  promise  the  first  quest.  '"  Damsel,  you 
know  this  Order  Ives  n)  crusli  all  wrongers  of  the  Realm.  But 
tell  me  about  these  four,  and  who  they  are." 

"  They  are  of  the  old  knight-errantry."  answered  Lynettc 
(juickly.  "  No  law  or  king  have  they,  and  courteous  or  bestial  is 
their  manner,  as  best  pleases  them.  Proud  ot  their  strength  are 
they,  and  they  call  themselves  the  Day.  Morning  Star,  Noon 
Sun,  and  Evening  Star  are  the  three  who  guard  the  bridges,  and 
the  castle  guard  is  a  huge,  savage  m  i-beast,  who  names  himself 
Night,  or  more  often,  Death.  He  wears  a  helmc  mounted  with 
a  skull,  and  bears  a  skeleton  fi^ur'  d  on  his  arms.  These  are  four 
fools,  King,  but  mighty  men;  und  lerefore  am  I  come  for  Lance- 
lot." 

Hearing  this,  Gareth,  with  kindling  eyes,  called  from  where 
he  stood,  a  head  taller  than  those  about  him  in  the  throng:  "  A 
boon,  Sir  King,  this  quest!  "  Then,  as  Sir  Kay,  w!  o  stood  near 
him,  groaned  like  a  wounded  hull,  he  continued  excitedly:  "  Yea, 
King,  thou  know  st  thy  kitchen-knave  am  L  But  I  am  mighty 
through  thy  meats  and  drinks,  and  I  can  topple  over  a  hundred 
such!     Thy  promise.  King!" 

And  Arthur,  glancing  at  him  wit',  the  frowning  brows  of  per- 
plexity, exclaimed  shortly:        G'l     Thou  art  worthy!" 

And  all  the  hearers  were  ama   ed. 

As  for  the  maiden,  Lynette,  anger,  shame,  and  pride  chased 
away  the  May-white  of  her  brow.      Raising  high  her  dimpled  arms. 


s« 


'1HI-:  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  Ol-  THL  KING 


she  cried  scornfully:  "  1  ic  <>n  thcc,  King!  1  asl;cd  for  thy  chief 
knight,  and  thou  h.ist  given  mc  but  a  kitchen-knave!  "  I  hen,  ere 
man  could  stay  her,  she  turned  and  flew  swiftly  from  the  iiall  to 
her  horse  witluuit  the  door,  ;ind  gidloped  away  through  :he  weird 
white  gate,  never  pausing  untd  she  reacheil  the  tourney  field  where 
she  burst  into  angry  tears,  murmuring  chokingly,  "  Kitchen-knave, 
forsooth!      I'ic  upon  him!  " 

In  the  meantime,  Sir  (iareth  Hed  another  way  to  where  stood 
a  horse,  King  Arthur's  gift,  the  worth  of  half  a  town,  a  war  horse 
of  the  best,  held  in  waiting,  with  spear  and  shield,  by  the  two 
who  had  followed  Ciareth  from  the  North.  Loosening  a 
string,  his  kitchen  garb  fell  off  and  he  stood  revealed  betorc  all 
the  kitchen  thralls  and  curious  knights  who  had  followed  him,  a 
noble  knight  in  glittering,  jeweled  armor.  From  all  the  by- 
standers rose  a  cry  of  admiration,  and  the  kitchen-knaves  threw 
up  their  caps,  shouting  lustily:  "God  bless  the  King  and  all  his 
fellowship !  " 

Then,  fallowed  by  the  cheers  and  good  wishes  of  all  save  the 
jealous-hearted  Sir  Kay,  who  cursed  and  grumbled  so  loudly  that 
Lancelot  rebuked  him  sorely,  Ciareth  passed  out  from  the  gate 
and  spurred  his  horse  to  where  the  maiden  still  lingered  by  the 
tourney  field,  murmuring:  "Wherefore  did  the  King  scorn  me? 
I  or,  if  it  were  impossible  to  send  Lancelot,  at  least  he  might  have 
yielded  to  me  one  of  those  who  tilt  for  lady's  love  and  glory  here, 
rather  than  —  O  sweet  Heaven!  O  tie  upon  him!  —  his  kitchen- 
knave  !  " 

When  Gareth,  looking  full  noble  and  handsome  in  his  brave 
attire,  came  up  and  bowed  low  in  courtly  fashion  before  her,  say- 
ing, "  NLaiden,  the  quest  is  mine.  Lead,  and  I  follow,"  she  cried 
shrilly:  "Hence!  Avoid!  Thou  smellest  all  n' kitchen  grease  ! 
Aii.i  look  who  comes  behind!  " 

.\t  this  moment  an  angry  bellowing  came  over  Gareth's  shoul- 
der, and  the  voice  of  Sir  Kay  cried:  "  Knowest  thou  not  me, 
thy  master?     I  am  Kay.     We  lack  thee  by  the  hearth." 


(JARKIH  OF  ORKNEY 


59 


riirniiiji  quickly,  (iaritli  lululd  tfic  pompous  seneschal  astride 
.1  lioiioucil  tiorse,  anil  liis  lirow  ^rew  black.  "  Master  no  more!  " 
he  i.ruii  storntuily.  "  I  no  \\i  11  1  know  thee,  the  ii'ost  ungentle 
ktii^;lit  in  Ai'liurs  h.ill."  With  that  he  (juickly  unseated  Kay, 
.iiul  leaMnj,'  him  with  :;  sli^jht  swrd  prit.k  in  his  shoulder,  j;alloped 
alter  the  ia-.t  Hying  maiden. 

When  the  heart  of  her  good  horse  was  well-nigh  ready  to  burst 
with  \iolence  of  the  pace,  the  iiaiden  perforce  drew  rein,  and, 
o\  ertaken,  s,p()ke : 

''What  dost  thou,  scullion,  in  my  fellowship?  Decmcst 
thou  that  I  accept  thee  more  that  by  some  ilevice  full  cow- 
ardly th.)u  hast  overthrown  thy  master?  1  hou  d'sh-washer 
and  broach-turner  I  To  me  thou  smellest  all  of  the  kitchen  as  be- 
fore !  " 

"  Damsel,"  Sir  Gareth  answered  gently,  lefusing  to  be  rebuked 
or  angered  by  the  hasty  words  or  the  scorn  in  her  beautiful  face, 
"  whatcNcr  you  will,  and  whatever  you  say,  I  leave  not  'jntil  I 
linish  this  fair  quest,  or  die." 

"Aye,  wilt  thou  finish  it?"  scoffed  the  maiden  tantali/ingly. 
"Sweet  lord,  how  like  a  noble  knight  he  talks!  The  listening 
roL;ue  hath  caught  the  manner  of  it.  But,  knave,  thou  shalt  be 
met  with  knave,  and  by  such  a  one  that  tliou,  for  all  the  kitchen 
brews  that  were  ever  supped,  shalt  not  once  dare  to  look  him  in  the 
face." 

I  shall  try,"  said  Gareth,  with  a  smile  that  maddened  her,  and 
away  she  flashed  again  down  the  long  avenues  of  the  boundless 
Hood. 

Hut,  after  a  time,  she  drew  rein  and  turned  hesitatingly  to  the 
despised  knave  at  her  side,  and  his  heart  bounded  as  it  seemed 
to  him  there  was  less  of  scorn  in  her  fair  face.  "  Sir  Kitchen- 
knave,  I  have  missed  the  only  way  where  Arthur's  men  are 
stationed  through  the  wootl,  and  this  forest  is  nigh  as  full 
of  thieves  as  leaves.  We  are  lost.  If  both  be  slain,  then  I  am 
rid  of  thee.     But  yet,  Sir  Scullion,  life  is  sweet, —  and  canst  thou 


m 


6o       THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

use  that  spear  of  thine?     Fight  if  thcu  k lowest  how;  for,  thanks 
to  Arthur's  scanty  grace,  I  have  mis'^^ci  the  road!  " 

And  Ciareth  tried  to  reassure  the  maiden,  but  finding  she  would 
not  listen  to  him,  determined  to  ride  bravely  by  her  side  and  prove 
his  right  to  knighthood  if  he  could.  They  were  even  then  climb- 
ing the  long  slope  of  a  hill,  and,  when  they  came  to  the  summit, 
they  beheld  in  the  valley  beyond  a  ^gloomy-shaded  mere,  and  on 
its  banks  were  six  strong  men  about  to  throw  a  bound  man  into 
its  depths. 

A. id  even  as  Gareth  and  the  maiden  looked,  a  frightened  serv- 
ing man  burst  through  the  bracken  and  cried  co  the  knight:  "  Help, 
my  lord!  The  villains  are  drowning  the  baron,  my  master,  a  serv- 
ant of  King  Arthur!  " 

Gareth  needed  no  more  words ;  indeed  he  w^-uld  probably  have 
gone  to  the  help  of  the  outnumbered  man  hpd  no  one  appeared  to 
beg  aid.  With  a  hastily  murmured  word  of  assurance  to  Lynette, 
he  swooped  down  upon  the  villains  and  smote  them  hip  and  thigh. 
Three  of  them  were  stretched  senseless  upon  the  ground,  and  the 
other  three  ran  screaming  into  the  forest.  Then  Gareth  loosed 
the  stone  from  off  the  captive  baron's  neck,  freed  him  of  his  bonds, 
and  helped  him  :o  his  feet. 

Oh,  my  friend,"  cried  the  baron,  stretchmg  out  his  liand  to 
Gareth,  "  It  is  well  that  you  came  i  Those  rogues  had  soon  made 
short  work  of  me.  Good  cause  is  theirs;  for  it  hath  long  been 
my  custom,  if  I  caught  a  thief,  to  tie  a  stone  around  his  neck  and 
drown  him  here.  Many  of  them  are  rotting  in  these  waters,  and 
at  night,  so  the  servants  say,  they  slip  loose  from  the  stone  and 
dance  upon  chc  mere!  But,  now  that  you  have  saved  my  life,  aid 
it  is  worth  somewhat  as  a  cleanser  of  this  wood,  let  me  reward 
you." 

"  No,"  answered  Gareth  quickly.  "  For  the  deed's  sake  have 
I  done  this  deed  in  uttermost  obedience  to  the  King.  But  wilt 
thou  give  this  maiden  shelter  for  the  night?" 

"  Right  welcome  are  ye  both !  "  responded  the  baron  heartily. 


GARETH  OF  ORKNEY 


6r 


again  extending  his  hand  to  Gareth.  "  I  well  believe  thou  art 
of  our  good  Arthur's  table  1  " 

A  light  laugh  now  broke  from  Lynette,  who  had  joined  them 
as  soon  as  the  baron  was  freed.  "  Aye,  of  a  truth  he  is,  being 
Arthur's  kitchen-knave  1  "  she  cried.  "  But  do  not  think,  scullion, 
that  you  are  more  welcome  to  me  because  ye  have  put  to  rout  a  lot 
of  craven  foresters  I  A  thresher  could  have  scattered  them  with 
his  flail  I     Nay,  you  smell  of  the  kitchen  still!  " 

Gareth  answered  never  a  word,  but  signed  for  the  baron  to 
lead  on,  and  there  came  to  him  a  half-regretful  wish  that  the 
baron  had  not  crossed  his  path,  for  the  maiden  had  been  half  will- 
ing to  trust  him  when  no  other  protection  was  nigh ! 

The  Lord  Baron's  home  proved  to  be  a  castle  rich  and  fair,  and 
he  eagerly  spread  before  his  guests  all  its  hospitalities.  Soon  he 
invited  them  to  partake  of  a  feast  that  had  that  day  been  held  in 
the  castle,  and  laced  a  roasted  peacock  before  Lynette,  seating 
Gareth  by  her  side. 

The  maiden  rose  at  once  i.i  angry  scorn.  "  Baron,  this  is  too 
much  discourtesy,  putting  this  knave  by  my  side.  Hear  me:  this 
morning  I  went  in  all  confidence  to  Arthur's  Court  and  begged  for 
his  best  knight,  Sir  Lancelot,  to  rescue  my  sister,  Lady  Lyonors,  who 
is  held  prisoner  by  a  man-savage  in  the  Castle  Perilous.  Now, 
this  lout,  this  kitchen-knave  rose  up  and  bawled  out  for  the  quest, 
and  Arthur,  suddenly  gone  mad,  granted  it.  l"hink  of  it  I  A  vil- 
lain titter  to  stick  swine  than  to  ride  abroad  redressing  women's 
wrongs!  " 

"  ISIethinks  thou  forgettest  thyself,  maiden!"  answered  the 
baron  sternly.  "Even  a  kitchen  helper  can  be  an  honest  manl 
And  one  can  see  at  a  glance  that  this  man  is  not  in  his  right  a 
kitchen-knave;  a  knight  is  he,  and  a  most  brave  and  noble  one!  " 

So  saying,  the  Lord  Baron  turned  his  back  none  too  politely 
upon  the  indignant  maiden,  and  seating  Gareth  at  another  table 
placed  himself  beside  him.  "  Friend,  it  matters  not  to  me  if  thou 
be'st  a  kitchen-knave,  or  if  the  King  or  yonder  damsel  be  mad. 


^1 


62      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

1  hou  strikcst  a  strong  stroke,  and  thou  art  a  gcodly  knight  and 
the  saver  of  my  life!  If  thou  harkenest  to  my  adv'ice,  thou  wilt 
take  yonder  foolish  Miss  back  to  Camelot,  and  let  Lancelot  or 
some  other  fight  her  battles!  " 

But  as  Gareth  would  not  turn  back  for  the  maiden's  sneering 
words,  neither  would  he  pause  for  the  friendly  ijaron's  advice,  and 
so  in  early  morning  they  set  out,  the  maiden  still  as  scornful  and 
unyielding  as  before.  At  last  they  came  by  a  rough-thicketed  road 
to  where  a  small  bridge  spanned  a  deep,  narrow,  frothing  stream. 
On  the  farther  side  arose  a  silk  pavilion,  gay  with  the  golden 
streaks  and  rays  of  the  Lent-lily,  save  where  the  dome  rose  high 
and  purple.  From  the  top  Hoated  a  slender  crimson  banner,  and 
beneath,   a   lawless  warrior  paced  unarmed. 

"  Damsel,"  he  died,  "  is  this  the  warrior  bold  that  thou  hast 
brought  from  .Arthur's  Court  to  struggle  for  the  pass?" 

"  Nay,  Sir  Morning  Star,"  answered  the  maiden,  being  divided 
in  her  scorn  between  Gareth  and  the  warrior  before  her.  "  The 
King  in  utter  scorn  of  thee  and  all  thy  folly  hath  sent  his  kitchen- 
knave.  Beware  lest  he  fall  on  thee  suddenly  and  slay  thej  ua 
armed,  for  he  is  not  a  knight,  but  a  knave." 

Gareth  flushed  crimson,  but  made  no  move  while  the  warrior 
called  for  the  Daughters  of  the  Dawn  to  approach  and  arm  him, 
waiting  patiently  until  three  beautiful,  silken-clad,  bare-footed, 
rosy-cheeked  maidens,  all  glistening  with  dew-drops,  appeared  and 
clad  the  warrior  in  a  bli;e  armor  and  gave  him  a  blue  shield, 
with  the  morning-star  engraved  thereon. 

Lynette  was  not  unmindful  of  her  knight's  gentle  behavior,  or  of 
the  admiration  of  the  scene  before  him  which  lurked  in  his  eyes, 
but  she  turned  to  him  tauntingly,  nevertheless,  and  asked:  "  Why 
stare  you  so.''  Vou  shake  in  fear!  There  is  yet  time;  flee  down 
the  valley  before  he  gets  to  horse.  Who  will  cry  shame?  You 
are  not  knight  but  kna\e!  " 

And  Gareth  replied  quickly:  "Damsel,  whether  knave  or 
knight,  far  liefer  had  I  fight  a  score  of  times  than  hear  thee  so 


GARETH  OF  ORKNEY 


63 


revile  rve  But  truly  thy  wrrds  send  a  strength  of  anger  through 
me.     I  know  that  I  shall  overthrow  him  I  " 

But  .low  the  Morning  Star  cried  to  Gareth:  "  A  kitchen-knave 
sent  in  scorn  of  me,  such  I  fight  not,  but  answer  scorn  for  scorn. 
It  were  a  shame  to  do  him  further  wrong  than  to  set  him  on  his 
feet  and  take  his  horse  and  arms  and  return  him  to  the  King! 
Come,  leave  thy  lady,  knave.  It  beseemeth  not  a  knave  to  ride 
with  a  I-^dy!  " 

"  Dr>  I  ^u  liest!"  cried  Gareth  angrily.  "I  spring  from 
loftier  lineage  than  thine  own." 

P'orthwith  the  two  sprang  angrily  at  each  other,  and  Gareth 
lashed  so  fiercely  with  his  brand  that  he  soon  had  his  foe  groveling 
on  the  ground. 

"  Tak*^  not  my  life!     I  yield,"  cried  the  warrior. 

"  So  this  da.Tisel  ask  it  of  me,"  answered  Gareth,  "  I  accord  It 
easily  as  a  grace." 

"Insolent  scullion!"  cried  the  maiden,  reddening.  "I  ask  of 
thee!  I  bound  to  thee  for  any  favor  asked!  Then  shall  he  die." 
But  as  Gareth  began  to  unlace  the  warrior's  helmet,  she  shrieked: 
"  Be  not  so  hardy,  scullion,  as  to  slay  one  nobler  th  .n  thyself!  " 

"  Damsel,"  returned  Gareth  graciously,  "  thy  charge  is  an 
abounding  pleasure  to  me.  Knight,  thy  life  is  at  her  command. 
.•\rise  and  get  thee  quickly  to  Arthur's  hall,  and  say  his  kitchen- 
knave  hath  sent  thee.  See  thou  cravest  his  pardon  for  breaking 
the  laws!  Thy  shield  is  mine!  Farewell!  Damsel,  do  thou 
lead,  and  1  will  follow." 

And  fast  away  flew  Lynette,  but  when  he  had  overtaken  her,  she 
turned  and  spoke:  "  Methought,  knave,  when  I  watched  thee 
striking  on  the  bridge,  the  savor  of  thy  kitchen  came  upon  me  a 
little  faintlier;  but  the  wind  hath  changed,  I  scent  it  twenty-fold." 
And  then  she  sang  a  mocking  little  song  about  the  beauty  of  the 
Morning  Sur,  pausing  finally  to  say:  "But  thou  had  best  take 
counsel  j.id  be  gone.  Fot-  near  here  is  the  second  brother  in  their 
fool's  parable,  and  he  will  pay  thee  mI  thy  wages  and  to  boot. 


'1 

4  4 


64      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

Care   not    for   shame,    run  I      Thou    art   not   knight   but   knave  I  " 

"  Parables?  "  queried  Gareth,  laughingly.  '  Hear  a  parable  of 
the  knave.  When  I  was  kitchen-knave  among  the  rest,  fierce  was 
the  hearth,  and  one  of  my  mates  owned  a  rough  dog,  to  whom 
he  cast  his  coat,  saying,  '  Guard  it,'  and  there  was  none  dared  meddle 
with  it.  And  such  a  coat  art  thou,  and  such  a  dog  am  L  and  the 
King  hath  given  thee  to  me  to  guard.  And  if  knave  does  thee 
service  as  full  knight,  then  he  is  as  good  as  any  knight  towards 
thy  sister's  freeing." 

"  Aye,  Sir  Knave,"  replied  Lynette  haughtily.  "  But  because 
thou  strikest  as  a  knight,  being  but  a  knave,  I  hate  thee  all  the 
more." 

"  Yes,  fair  damsel,  but  in  that  you  are  grievously  wrong.  You 
should  worship  me  the  more,  that,  being  but  knave,  I  can  over- 
throw thine  enemies." 

"  Aye,   aye,"  she  cried  tauntingly,   "  but  thou  shalt  meet  thy 

match!" 

When  they  came  nigh  to  the  second  river-loop,  they  beheld  the 
second  warrior,  Noonday  Sun,  astride  a  huge,  bay  horse.  His 
shield  and  armor  were  burnished  so  brightly  that  they  cast  sparks 
in  the  sun,  and  Gareth  was  well-nigh  blinded  by  their  blaring 
splendor. 

"Avaunt!  What  dost  thou,  brother,  in  my  marches  here?" 
roared  the  warrior. 

And  Lynette  answered  shrilly :  "  Here  is  a  kitchen-knave  from 
Arthur's  Hall!  He  hath  overthrown  thy  brother.  Morning  Star, 
and  hath  his  arms." 

Noonday  Sun  cried  out  angrily  and  plunged  into  the  foaming 
ford,  but  Gareth  met  him  half  way.  No  room  was  there  in  the 
whirling  waters  for  lance  or  tourney  skill,  and  Gareth  feared  he 
would  be  overcome,  for  his  horse  was  frightened  and  hard  to 
control.  But,  as  the  warrior  raised  his  ponderous  arm  for  the 
fifth  mighty  stroke,  his  horse  slipped  and  went  down  in  the  stream. 
The  Noonday  Sun  was  now  at  the  mercy  of  the  waters.     Gareth, 


GARETH  OF  ORKNEY 


6S 


however,  v  is  too  not  le  to  let  his  enemy  drown,  and  after  a  hard 
strugg'"  succeeded  in  drawing  him  it  on  the  tocks.  Shocked 
and  breathless,  the  warrior  could  fight  no  more,  and  so,  perforce, 
yieuird.  Garetn  charged  him  to  deliver  himself  to  King  Arthur, 
promising  tn  plea  J  for  him  on  his  return,  and  then  bade  the  maiden 
1(   d  on 

Quietly  she  obeyed. 

"Ah,  damst.  "  laughed  Gareth,  unwise  in  his  joy,  "hath  not 
the  good  wind  changed  again?  " 

"Nay,"  answered  the  maiden  scornfully,  "not  ?  point!  Nor 
art  rhoL  .ictor  here.  There  is  a  ledge  of  slate  across  the  ford, 
and  the  Noonday  Sun's  horse  stumbled  thereon.     Yea,  for  I  saw 

It. 

Then  she  began  to  s,ng: 


"  O  sun,  that  wakest  all  to  bliss  or  pain, 
O  moon,  that  layest  all  to  sleep  again, 
Shine  sweetly:  twice  n.y  love  hath  smiled  on  me. 

"But  whnt  knovvest  thou  of  love  song  or  of  love?"  she  then 
demanded  oi  Gareth.  anci  without  pausing  for  his  reply  went  on 
singing: 


4| 
•'I,! 


.  if 


"  O  dewy  flowers  that  open  to  the  sun, 
O  dewy  flowers  that  close  when  day  is  done. 
Blow  sweedy:  twice  my  love  hath  smiled  on  me. 

"  But  how  mayest  thou  know  of  flowers?  "  she  queried.  "  Ex- 
cept, perchance,  to  garnish  mea;  with.  Hath  not  our  good  King 
who  lent  me  thee,  the  flower  of  kitchendom,  a  foolish  love  for 
flowers?  What  put  you  round  the  pasty ""  Wherewithal  did  you 
deck  the  boar's  head?  With  flowers?  Nay,  the  boar  had  rose- 
mary and  bay." 

Gareth  answered  only  with  a  smile,  and  his  blue  eyes  laughed 
tenderly  at  her.     Lynette  sang  on: 


,»''^i 


66      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THL  KING 

"  O  birds  that  warble  tu  »he  morning  sky, 
O  birds  that  warblf  as  the  ,lry  goes  by, 
Sing  sweetly:  twice  my  love  hath  smiled  on  me. 

"But  what  canst  thou  know  of  birds?"  she  said.  "Lark, 
mavis,  merle,  or  linnet?  What  dreamest  thou  when  they  utter 
their  sweet,  sun-worshiping  May  music?  Thinkest  thou:  '  these  be 
for  the  snare,  these  for  the  spit?  '  But  thou  hast  fried  thy  last  on', 
except  thou  turn  to  fly,  for  yonder  is  the  third  stout  fool  awaiting 
thee!" 

Gareth  turned  from  silent  admiration  of  his  companion  and 
gazed  in  amazement  in  the  direction  which  she  pointed.  It  was 
but  too  true.  Over  beyond  a  bridge  of  treble  bow,  against  the 
rose-red  western  si  y,  stood,  seemingly  all  naked,  the  knight  who 
named  himself  Evening  Star. 

"Zounds!"  cried  Gareth,  aghast.  "Why  does  the  madman 
wait  naked  there  in  the  opei  dayshine?" 

"Nay,"  replied  the  maiden,  "he  is  not  naked;  only  wrapped 
In  hardened  skms  that  fit  him  like  his  own.  If  you  cleave  his  armor, 
the  skins  will  turn  tht  blade  of  your  sword!  " 

The  Evening  Star  now  shouted  from  the  bridge :  "  O  brother- 
star,  why  shine  you  here  so  low?  Your  ward  is  higher  up.  Have 
you  slain  the  damsel's  champion?" 

"  No  star  of  thine,"  cried  the  maiden  quickly,  perceiving  that 
the  knight  had  mistaken  Gareth  for  his  brother  on  account  of 
the  Morning  Sun's  shield  which  he  bore,  "  but  shot  from  Arthur's 
heaven  with  ail  disaster  unto  thee  and  thine!  Both  thy  younger 
brethren  have  gone  down  before  this  youth,  and  so  wilt  thou,  Sir 
Star.     Art  thou  not  old?" 

"Old,  princess!"  cried  the  knight,  "both  old  and  hard.  Old 
with  the  might  and  breath  of  twenty  boys." 

"  Old  and  over-hold  in  brag!  "  said  Gareth  angrily.  "  But  that 
same  strength  whicli  overthrew  t*"-;  T' ,onday  Sun  cp  i  throw  the 
Evening  Star:  " 

The  Evening  Star  now  blew  a  fierce  and  deadly  blast  upon  his 


GARETH  OF  ORKNEY 


e? 


horn,  that  made  Lynette  shudder  and  cover  her  ca's.  "  Approach 
and  arm  me,"  he  cried  hoarsely.  And  straightway  from  out  the 
old  russet,  storm-heaten,  many-stained  pavilion  came  a  grizzled 
dame,  and  armed  him  in  old  arms.  His  helm  had  only  a  drymg 
evergreen  for  a  crest,  and  on  his  shield  the  Star  of  Even  blazed  but 

dimly. 

'1  he  two  knights  rushed  madly  toward  each  other  and  met  mid- 
way upon  the  bridge.  At  the  first  blow  Gareth  unseated  his  foe, 
and  when  he  arose,  met  him  with  drawn  sword  and  overthrew 
him  again.  But  up  like  fire  he  started,  and  as  oft  as  Gareth  brought 
him  groveling  on  his  knees,  so  often  he  vaulted  up  again;  till  Gareth 
panted  hard,  and  his  great  heart,  foredooming  all  his  trouble  vain, 
labored  within  him. 

Presently  he  half  despaired,  and  Lynette.  seeing  this,  cried  out: 
"  Well  done,  brave  knight !  "  And  again,  "  O  good  knight-knavc, 
—  O  knave,  as  noble  as  any  of  all  the  knights,  shame  me  notl 
Shame  me  not!  For  I  have  prophesied!  Strike!  Thou  art 
worthy  of  the  Table  Round!  His  arms  are  old;  he  trusts  his 
hardened   skin.     Strike!     Strike!     The   wind   will   never   change 

again  I  " 

Her  words  put  new  courage  into  Gareth's  heart  and  gave  the 
strength  of  Samson  to  his  arm.  He  hewed  off  great  pieces  of 
the  hardened  armor-skin,  but  could  no  more  wholly  subdue  his  en- 
emy than  could  the  loud  waves,  roUing  ridge  on  ridge,  submerge 
the  springing  buoy  that  rides  at  sea.  At  length  Gareth's  sword 
clashed  with  his  foeman's  and  broke  it  at  the  hilt,  and  he  thought 
to  claim  the  victory.  But  the  warrior,  all  unknightlike,  sprang  upon 
him  and  wrapped  him  In  his  wiry  arms.  Struggling,  striving,  pant- 
ing, each  sought  to  throw  the  other  Into  the  stream,  until  at  last, 
straining  every  nerve,  Gareth  prevailed;  then,  turning,  said  to  the 
maiden  in  a  smothered  voice:      "Lead  on.      I  follow." 

"  Nay,"  cried  Lynette,  holding  out  her  hand.  "  1  lead  no  longer. 
Ride  thou  at  my  side.  Thou  a-  the  kingllest  of  all  the  kitchen- 
knaves!  " 


68       THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

Off  came  Gareth's  jeweled  helm,  as  would  a  courtier's  hat  of 
plumes,  and  low  he  bowed  until  his  lips  touched  the  tips  of  her 
dainty  finircrs.  Then,  swiftly  mounting  his  horse,  he  wheeled  him 
into  the  path,  while  the  maiden  sang  joyously :  — 

'  O  trefoil,  sparklinK  on  the  rainy  plain, 
O  rainbow  with  three  colors  after  rain. 
Shine  sweetly:  thrice  my  love  hath  smiled  on  me. 

"  Sir,"  she  then  murmured,  "  and,  good  faith,  I  fain  had  added 
Knight,  but  that  I  heard  thee  call  thyself  a  knave!  Shamed  am 
I  that  I  so  rebuked,  reviled,  and  mis-said  thee!  Noble  I  am, 
and  thought  the  King  did  but  scorn  me  and  mine.  Grant  now  thy 
pardon,  friend,  for  thou  hast  ever  answered  courteously,  and  wholly 
bold  art  thou,  and  meek  withal  as  any  of  Arthur's  best,  but,  being 
knave,  hast  ma/cd  my  wit.     I  marvel  what  thou  art." 

"  Damsel,"  returned  Gareth  gently,  "  you  are  not  all  to  blame, 
saving  that  you  mistrusted  our  good  King.  You  said  your  say; 
my  answer  was  my  deed.  I  hold  he  scarce  is  knight,  yea,  but  half- 
man,  nor  •  leet  to  fight  for  gentle  damsel,  who  lets  his  heait  be 
stirred  with  foolish  heat  at  the  damsel's  waywardness.  Shamed? 
Care  not!  Your  unkind  sayings  i  jght  for  me:  and  seeing  now 
your  words  are  fair,  methinks  there  rides  no  knight,  not  even 
Lancelot,  that  has  the  force  to  quell  me." 

So  they  rode  in  silence  until  nigh  upon  that  hour  when  the  lone 
heron  forgets  his  mtiancholy,  and  twilight  falls.  TTien  the  maiden 
turned  smilingly  to  her  companion,  and  told  him  of  a  cavern  near 
at  hand  where  the  Lady  of  Lyonors  had  promised  to  secrete  bread, 
baked  meats,  and  good  red  wine  of  the  Southland.  Pointing  tht 
way  past  a  narrow  comb  wherein  were  slabs  of  rock  with  sculptured 
figures  of  knights  on  horseback,  she  observed:  "Sir  Knave,  my 
kright,  a  hermit  once  was  here,  whose  holy  hand  hath  fashlo^ied 
on  tht  rock  the  war  of  Time  against  the  soul  of  man.  Yon  four 
Day  fools  hath  sucked  their  allegory  from  these  damp  walls,  and 
taken  but  the  form.     Know  you  not  these?" 


GARETH  OF  ORKNEY 


69 


And  Gareth  looked  and  read,  in  letters  such  as  the  Roman 
standard  bearers  carved  up.ni  the  cliffs  of  the  streaming  river  (ielt, 
"  I'hrxphnru^,  MeriJies,  Hesperus,  Nox,  Mors."  each  beneath  a 
figure  of  an  armed  man,  the  faces  all  turned  forward. 

"  lollovv  the  faces,  and  we  shall  find  the  cave,"  said  Lynette. 
"  But  look,  who  comes  behind?" 

Gareth  turned,  and  in  so  doing  let  the  Morning  Sun's  shield  be 


seen. 


"  Stay,  felon  knight,"  cried  the  pursuer,  "  I  avenge  thee  for  my 
friend." 

With  that  he  charged  at  Gareth,  and  before  the  young  man  had 
time  to  defend  himself  he  lay  sprawled  upon  the  f^rass.  It  was 
all  done  so  suddenly  and  withal  so  neatly  that  a  laugh  of  admira- 
tion broke  from  the  unfortunate  victim. 

The  sound  of  mirth,  so  inopportune,  jarred  upon  Lynette. 
"  Shamed  and  overthrown  and  tumbled  back  into  a  kitchen-knave, 
why  laugh  you?"  she  demanded  harshly.  "  Have  you  but  blown 
your  boast  in  vain?  " 

"  Nay,  noble  maiden,"  answered  Gareth  penitently,  "  but  that 
I,  son  of  old  King  Lot  and  good  Queen  Bellicent  of  Orkney,  victor 
of  the  bridges  and  the  ford  and  knight  of  .Arthur,  should  thus  be 
thrown  so  easily  I  Surely  it  is  some  d»vice  of  sorcery  or  un- 
happinessi     Out  sword;  we  are  thrown  I" 

"Pri.-.ce!"  cried  the  strange  knight  joyfully,  putting  out  his 
hand  to  stay  the  other.  "  Gareth  1  It  was  all  through  the  mere 
awkwardness  of  one  who  came  to  help  you,  not  to  harm!  I  am 
Lancelot.  Sent  to  give  you  aid  by  our  good  King,  if  it  so  chanced 
that  you  had  need  of  a  strong  arm,  and  as  glad  to  find  you  whole 
as  you  were  to  join  our  Order  true!  " 

"Lancelot!"  cried  Gareth,  in  amazement.  "Thou  I  01 
Lancelot,  thine  the  hand  that  threw  me  I  Praise  the  saints!  For 
'tli>  no  shame  to  be  thrown  by  thee,  the  great  Prince  of  Knights!  " 

And  Lancelot  laughed  and  cordially  shook  his  out-stretched  hand, 
but  Lynette  cried  petulantly :     "  Lancelot,  why  came  you  not  when 


u 


70      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OK  THE  KL\G 

called  ?  And  wherefore  do  you  come  now  when  you  are  not  called? 
I  gloried  in  my  knave,  who  bcin^  still  rebuked,  would  answer  as 
courteous  still  as  any  knight.  But  now,  if  he's  a  knl«lit,  the  marvel 
dies,  and  leaves  me  fooled  and  tricked  and  only  wondering  why  I 
am  played  upon,  and  whether  I  and  mine  be  scorned.  lor  where 
should  truth  be  found  but  in  Arthur's  hall  and  in  Arthur's  pres- 
ence? Knight,  knave,  prince  and  fool,  I  hate  thee  and  forever!" 
C7arcth  stood  dumb  under  the  maiden's  last  words,  and  so  Lance- 
lot spoke :  "  Blessed  be  thou,  Sir  Gareth  I  Knight  art  thou  to  the 
Kmg's  best  wish.  0  maiden,  are  you  wise  to  call  him  shamed,  who 
is  but  overthrown?  Well  has  he  striven,  and  he  and  his  good 
horse  are  tired;  yet  I  felt  his  manhood  through  all  his  weary  lance's 
charge.  The  stream  has  he  freed,  justice  wreaked  on  his  foes, 
and  when  reviled,  was  answered  graciously.  Then,  too,  he  makes 
merry  when  overthrown.  Hail,  Knight  and  Prince,  and  of  our 
Table  Round,  I  salute  thee!  " 

Then  he  went  on  to  explain  to  Gareth  how  the  King  had  bade 
him  cover  his  shield  and  follow,  how  he  had  been  delayed  by 
being  obliged  to  see  the  wounded,  bellowing  Sir  Kay  home,  and 
how  he  had  lost  them,  through  their  losing  the  trail. 

The  maiden  listened  to  all  this  moodily,  anJ  when  Lancelot,  half 
vexed,  turned  to  her  and  told  all  the  story  of  Gareth,  she  answered 
yet  more  petulantly  than  before :  "  Worse  Is  being  fooled  of  others 
than  to  fool  one's  self!"  Then  she  brushed  her  brow  wearily, 
and  in  so  doing  must  have  cleared  her  face  of  frowns,  for  she  turned 
smilingly  to  Lancelot  and  said  in  a  different  voice:  "  There  is  a 
cave  somewhere  near  with  meats  and  drinks,  forage  for  the  horses, 
and  flint  for  fire,  but  all  about  it  flies  the  honeysuckle  Help  us 
to  find  it!"  ^ 

When  they  had  sought  the  cave  and  found  the  comforts  hidden 
there.  Sir  Gareth  sank  into  a  heavy  sleep,  but  yet  he  turned  and 
tossed  and  seemed  uncomfortable.  So  the  maiden  took  his  head 
into  her  lap,  softly  and  carefully,  so  as  not  to  waken  him,  and 
she   brooded    tenderly    over   him.     As   she    sat   thus,    she   mused 


GARLTII  Ol    ORKXKY 


7» 


silently:  "  Sound  sleep  be  thine!  Sound  cause  to  sleep  hast  thou. 
Wake  lusty!  Seeni  I  not  as  tender  to  him  as  any  moihcr?  Aye, 
but  such  a  one  as  has  all  day  long  rated  iicr  child  and  vexed  hist 
day,  hut  blesses  hirn  asleep.  .  .  .  I  low  sweetly  smells  the 
honeysuckle  in  the  hushed  nipht,  as  if  the  world  were  one  of  utter 
pcacv  and  love,  and  gentleness!  .  .  .  U  Lancelot,  Lancelot! 
full  merry  am  I  to  find  that  my  goodly  knave  is  :i  noble  knight! 
Hut  see  I  have  sworn  to  the  castle  .  uard  to  bring  you  to  fight 
with  him!  Now,  if  you  go  up  with  us,  then  will  the  rebel  knight 
attack  you,  and  my  knight-knave  will  miss  the  full  tlower  of  his 
accomplishment." 

Lancelot  came  over  to  her,  smiling  kindly,  and  he  noted  the 
white  hand  unconsciously  smoothing  Gareth's  hair.  "  We  must 
leave  it  to  him,  for  the  quest  is  his,"  said  he.  "  And,  peradventurc, 
he  you  name  may  know  my  shield.  I'll  tell  you,  damsel!  Let 
Ciareth,  if  he  will,  change  his  shield  for  mine,  and  take  my  horse, 
for  he  is  fresh  and  needs  not  to  be  spurred,  loving  the  battle  as 
well  as  he  who  rides  him." 

"Spoken  like  Lancelot!  "  agreed  the  maiden  cordially. 

So  they  talked  and  planned  until  at  last  Gareth  showed  signs 
of  waking,  and  Lynette  put  him  quietly  away  and  slipped  blushingly 
out,  leaving  to  Lancelot  the  task  of  persuading  Gareth.  What- 
ever he  said  we  know  not,  but  we  are  afraid  the  good  knight  told 
tales  out  of  school;  for  when  the  maiden  returned  there  was  a 
new  light  In  Gareth's  eyes,  and  a  joy  in  his  heart  that  showed  in 
his  voice. 

He  was  impatient  to  gain  victory.     "  Come,  let  us  go,"  he  cried. 

Silently  the  three  traversed  the  silent  field.  A  smile  lay  on 
Gareth's  lips  and  his  dreams  were  passing  fair.  But  only  two 
remarks  did  he  make  which  would  show  the  tenor  of  his  thoughts 
to  his  companions:  —  Once,  a  star  shot  downward,  and  he  cried: 
"  Lo!  the  foe  falls!  "  Again,  an  owl  whoope  i  in  the  forest,  and 
he  exclaimed,  "  Hark,  the  victor  pealing  there!  " 

Suddenly  she  who  rode  at  his  left  grasped  the  shield  which  Lance- 


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72      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

lot  had  lent  him,  pleading  eagerly;  "  Yield,  yield  him  this  again. 
'Tis  he  must  fight!  I  ci"  ^e  thj  tongue  that  all  through  yesterday 
reviled  thee,  and  hath  wrought  on  Lancelot  now  to  lend  thee  horse 
and  shield!  Wonders  thou  hast  done;  miracles  thou  canst  not. 
Here  is  glory  enough  in  having  flung  the  three.  I  see  thee  maiined 
and  mangled!  Do  not  fight,  I  pray  thee!  I  swear  rhou  canst  not 
fling  the  fourth!  " 

"  But  wherefore,  damsel?  "  queried  Gareth  laughingly,  albeit  his 
blue  eyes  dwelt  tenderly  upon  her.  "  Tell  me  all  you  know.  You 
cannot  frighten  me.  No  rough  face  or  voice,  brute  bulk  of  limb, 
or  boundless  savagery  will  turn  me  from  the  quest." 

"  Nay,  Prince,"  she  answered.  "  I  never  looked  upon  his  face, 
seeing  he  never  rides  abroad  by  day;  but  I  have  watched  him  pass 
like  a  phantom,  chilling  the  night.  Neither  have  I  heard  his  voice. 
Always  he  made  a  mouthpiece  of  his  page  who  came  and  went,  and 
still  reported  him  as  closing  in  himself  the  strength  of  ten,  and 
when  very  angry  massacring  man,  woman,  lad,  and  girl  —  yea,  the 
soft  babe!  Some  hold  that  he  hath  swallowed  infant  flesh  I 
Monster!  O  Prince,  I  went  for  Lancelot  first!  The  quest  is 
Lancelot's;  give  him  back  the  shield." 

"  Yea,  my  lady  Lynette,"  laughed  Gareth.  "  If  he  will  joust 
for  it  and  win  it  as  the  better  man!  " 

Then  Lancelot,  seeing  Gareth's  heart  was  set  upon  finishing  the 
quest,  contented  himself  by  offering  all  manner  of  advice  on  the 
devisings  of  chivalry;  how  best  to  manage  horse,  lance,  sword  and 
shield,  and  so  fill  up  with  skill  the  gap  where  force  might  fail. 

But  his  words  went  in  one  ear  and  out  the  other;  Gareth  could 
not  fix  his  attention  upon  the  friendly  counsel,  and  at  last  cried 
out  in  protest :  "  Alas,  Sir  Lancelot,  here  be  rules,  but  I  can  master 
only  one  —  to  dash  against  mine  enemy  and  to  win.  Full  many  a 
time  have  I  watched  thee  victor  in  the  joust  and  seen  thy  way, 
but  I  am  not  skilled  like  thee." 

"  Then  Heaven  help  thee,"  sighed  Lynette,  greatly  troubled. 

A  dark  cloud  now  rose  up  and  shrouded  all  the  stars  in  gloom. 


CARET H  OF  ORKNEY 


/  s 


Gaily  the  three  essayed  to  talk,  striving  thus  to  cheer  each  other, 
but  ever  the  black  pall  seemed  to  sink  lower  and  wrap  them  in 
silence.  At  last  the  maiden  pressed  her  white  palfrey  close  to 
Gareth's  horse,  clasped  his  arm,  and  pointing  unsteadily  ahead, 
whispered,  "  There!  " 

They  had  reached  the  goal  at  last.  Only  a  short  distance  away 
stood  the  Castle  Perilous,  and  right  beside  it  was  a  huge,  black 
pavilion  with  a  trailing,  black  banner.  Before  Lancelot  and 
Lynette  had  time  to  think,  Gareth  seized  the  long,  black  horn  which 
hung  conveniently  near  on  the  wall,  and  blew  a  hideous  bbst  that 
went  shivering  through  the  night  and  echoing  in  all  the  castle  walls. 
Lights  soon  twinkled  here  and  there  thro-ighout  the  castle,  and  when 
Gareth,  impatient,  blew  another  blast,  muffled  voices  could  be  heard 
and  hollow  tramplings  up  and  down.  Then  far  above  them  a  win- 
dow burst  into  glowing  bloom  and  from  out  the  radiance  leaned  a 
beautiful  woman. 

"Lyonors!"  exclaimed  Lynette  eagerly.  "Have  courage! 
Here  is  a  knight  come  to  deliver  thee!  " 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  woman  above  heard  the  cheering  message, 
but  she  undoubtedly  guessed  its  import.  Radiant  smiles  lighted  up 
her  face  and  she  extended  her  hands  in  eager  welcome. 

"  God  grant  you  save  her,"  cried  Lynette  to  Gareth. 

His  answer  was  another  lusty  blast  which  raised  the  echoes  far 
and  near.  Then  the  great  black  doors  of  the  huge  pavilion  slowly 
folded  back,  and  there  came  riding  out  a  hideous  thing  with  the 
white  breast-bone,  barren  ribs,  and  grinning  skull  of  Death.  A 
monster  thing  it  was,  mounted  on  a  coal  black  horse,  with  night 
black  arms,  and  slowly  it  came  out  into  the  dim  dawn,  then  paused 
and  spoke  no  word. 

"  Fool,"  cried  Gareth  angrily,  "  men  say  thou  hast  the  strength 
of  ten.  Canst  thou  not  trust  the  limbs  thy  God  hath  given  thee, 
but  must  trick  thyself  out  in  ghastly  imageries  of  that  which  Life 
hath  done  with,  and  the  d"ll  clod  hides  with  mantling  flowers  for 
pity?" 


74      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  Ol-  THE  KING 

But  the  thing  spoke  no  word  in  reply,  and  all  about  there  seemed 
to  be  gathering  a  swift,  boundless  current  of  horror.  The  Lady 
Lyonors  wrung  her  hands  and  wept  despairingly;  a  handmaiden  be- 
hind her  swooned;  Sir  Gareth's  skin  prickled  with  fear;  and  even  the 
bold  Sir  Lancelot  felt  all  through  his  warm  blood  a  chill  like  that 
of  ice. 

All  at  once  the  fearless  steed  which  Gareth  rode  neighed  fiercely, 
and  Death's  dark  war-horse  bounded  forward.  Then  those  that 
did  not  blink  with  terror,  saw  to  their  amazement  that  Death 
was  cast  to  the  ground,  but  slowly  rose  again.  With  two  power- 
ful blows  Gareth  split  open  the  impostor's  armor  and  then  — most 
wonderful  tn  relate  —  out  sprang  a  beautiful,  blooming  boy,  fresh 
as  a  new-born  flower. 

"O  knight,  slay  me  not!"  he  pleaded.  "My  three  brothers 
bade  me  do  it  to  make  a  horror  all  about,  and  stay  the  world  from 
Lady  Lyonors.     They  never  dreamed  the  passes  could  be  crossed." 

Most  graciously  Gareth  answered,  for  his  heart  was  thrilled 
with  wild  joy:  "  My  fair  child,  what  madness  made  thee  challenge 
the  chief  knight  of  Arthur's  hall?  " 

"  Fair  Sir,  they  made  me  do  it.  They  hate  the  King  and  Lance- 
lot, the  King's  friend.  They  hoped  to  slay  him  somewhere  on  the 
stream.  They  never  thought  harm  would  come  near  me.  They 
did  not  dream  the  stream  could  be  opened." 

Lady  Lyonors  now  appeared  at  the  open  house  door,  with  hearty 
thanks,  and  a  cordial  welcome  for  her  deliverer  and  the  dear  sister 
who  had  periled  her  life  to  bring  him.  Everything  in  the  castle 
was  placed  at  their  disposal,  and  all  the  household  waxed  merry 
with  dance,  revel,  and  song  over  their  deliverance  from  the  grim 
enemy,  Death. 

And  in  the  heart  of  Gareth  joy  was  crowned,  for  he  had  won 
the  quest  and  proven  to  his  beloved  King  how  well  he  could  strike 
for  Christ  and  the  right.  Those  who  told  the  story  in  the  old  times 
say  that  Gareth  wedded  Lady  Lyonors,  but  those  who  told  it  later 
say  it  was  Lynette.     And  to  our  minds  the  latter  tale  seems  truer. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE    STORV   OF   GKRAINT   AND    ENID 

ON  a  certain  Whitsuntide  King  Arthur  held  a  great  Feast  of 
the  Pentecost  at  Caerleon  upon  Usk.  In  the  midst  ot  the 
rejoicings  a  forester  of  Dean,  wet  from  the  woods,  came 
with  the  tidings  that  he  had  seen  a  beautiful  milky-white  hart  in 
the  forest  near  the  banks  of  the  Severn.  Now  King  Arthur  dearly 
loved  the  chase,  so  he  immediately  ordered  the  horns  to  be  blown 
announcing  a  big  hunt  on  the  morrow. 

The  Queen  was  also  much  interested  in  the  chase,  so  she  eagerly 
petitioned  and  obtained  leave  to  see  the  hunt.  Unfortunately  she 
slept  late  the  next  morning,  and  when  she  awoke  all  the  eager 
hunters  had  gone.  But  the  Queen  was  not  to  be  disappointed,  and 
set  out  as  soon  as  she  could  make  ready,  with  only  a  single  maiden 
for  a  companion,  intending,  since  she  was  so  late,  to  view  the  scene 
from  a  certain  high  knoll  in  the  woodland.  As  they  waited,  all 
ears  listening  for  the  hounds,  there  was  heard  a  sound  of  gallop- 
ing hoofs,  and  presently  Prince  Geraint,  a  knight  of  Arthur  from 
the  neighborhood  of  Devon,  appeared. 

"  Ah,  Prince,"  cried  Queen  Guinevere  graciously,  "  thou  art 
late,  late!  Later  than  we,  if  indeed,"  glancing  doubtfully  at  his 
silken  holiday  attire,  "  thou  hast  intended  to  take  part  in  the  hunt 
at  all?" 

"  Yes,  noble  Queen,"  replied  the  Prince,  with  low-bowed 
courtesy,  "  so  late  am  I  that  I  have  left  arms  and  hunting  garb 
at  home,  and  come  like  you  only  to  see  the  hunt  and  not  to  share  it." 

"  Then  wait  with  me,"  invited  the  Queen  pleasantly,  "  for  on 
this  knoll,  if  anywhere,  we  shall  see  the  hounds.  Often  they  break 
covert  here  at  our  feet." 

While  they  stood  breathlessly  listening  for  the  on-coming  bay- 

75 


76      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

ing  of  Cavall,  the  King's  noblest  hounil,  there  rode  past  them  an 
armed  knight,  with  a  lady  and  a  dwarf.  And  the  Queen,  desiring 
to  know  the  stranger  knight's  name,  sent  her  maiden  to  inquire  of 
the  dwarf  what  it  might  be.  But  the  dwarf  answered  sharply  that 
he  would  not  tell,  neither  would  he  allow  her  to  ask  his  master, 
saying  that  she  w  as  not  worthy  even  to  speak  of  him,  and  he  lashed 
at  her  with  his  whip.  So  the  maiden  returned  indignantly  to  the 
Queen,  and  Geraint  loyally  made  after  the  dwarf  and  questioned 
him,  but  with  no  better  success  —  indeed,  the  impudent  fellow 
struck  the  knight  across  the  face  with  his  whip  so  severely  that  thd 
blood  started.  Quickly  the  Prince  gripped  his  gold-mounted  sword, 
minded  to  destroy  him,  but  not  liking  to  pass  arms  with  such  a  worm, 
he  restrained  himself  and  turned  loyally  to  his  Queen,  saying:  — 

"  Most  noble  Queen,  mightily  will  I  avenge  this  insult  which 
has  been  put  upon  you  through  your  maiden  1  I  shall  follow  yon 
churlish  dwarf  and  compel  his  master  to  come  to  you  humbly  and 
crave  pardon.  Though  I  ride  only  with  my  faithful  sword,  no 
doubt  I  can  find  armor  along  the  way  somewhere,  for  loan  or  for 
pledge,  and,  in  three  days,  if  I  be  not  slain,  1  will  come  again. 
Farewell  1  " 

"Farewell I"  returned  the  Queen  "Be  prosperous  in  this 
journey,  fair  Prince,  as  in  all;  and  may  you  light  on  all  things  that 
you  love,  and  live  to  wed  with  her  whom  first  you  love.  But  ere 
you  wed  with  any,  bring  your  bride  —  yea,  though  she  be  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  king  or  a  beggar  from  the  hedge  —  ?nd  I  will  clothe  her  for 
her  bridals  like  tlie  sun." 

Half  vexed  at  losing  sight  of  the  hunt,  but  more  out  of  humor 
at  the  cause,  Prince  Geraint  followed  the  three  over  field  and  dale, 
till  they  came  at  last  to  a  little  town  hidden  in  the  valley,  on  one 
side  whereof  was  a  newly-built  fortress,  and  on  the  other  an  ancient 
castle,  half  in  ruin.  The  three  rode  up  to  the  fortress,  entered 
therein,  and  were  lost  behind  its  walls;  but  Geraint  felt  that  he  had 
tracked  them  to  their  lair,  and  so  rode  on  wearily  into  town,  seek- 
ing shelter  for  the  night.     But  it  seemed  too  busy  a  place   for 


THE  STORY  OF  GERAINT  AND  ENID        77 

strangers,  and  every  one  he  spoke  to  was  so  full  of  bustle  that  he 
scarce  took  time  to  look  at  him  and  muttered  something  about  "  1  he 
Sparrow-hawk." 

Grown  thoroughly  incensed  at  last,  the  Prince  paused  before 
an  armorer's  shop,  where  a  man  sat  bowed  above  his  work,  riveting 
a  helmet  on  his  knee.  Without  turning  around,  he  answered  the 
Prince's  question  thus:  "  Friend,  he  that  labors  for  the  Sparrow- 
hawk  has  little  time  for  idle  questioners." 

This  was  the  last  straw,  and  all  the  Prince's  anger  was  inflamed: 
"  A  thousand  pips  eat  up  your  Sparrow-hawk!  "  he  cried.  "  Tits, 
wrens,  and  all  winged  nothings  pack  him  dead!  Ye  think  the  rustic 
cackle  of  your  burg  the  murmur  of  the  world!  What  is  it  to  me? 
O  wretched  set  of  sparrows,  one  and  all,  who  pipe  of  nothing  but 
of  sparrow-hawks!  Speak,  if  ye  be  not  like  the  rest,  hawk-mad. 
Where  can  I  get  shelter  for  the  night?  And  arms,  arms,  arms 
to  fight  my  enemy?     Speak!  " 

On  the  instant  the  armorer  had  turned  amazed,  and  seeing  one 
clad  so  gaily  in  purple  silks,  started  up,  helmet  in  hand,  bowing  low, 
and  waiting  for  a  chance  to  speak,  which  he  did  eagerly,  as  soon 
as  the  Prince  paused.  "Pardon  nic,  O  stranger  knight!"  said 
he.  "  We  hold  a  tourney  here  to-morrow  morning,  and  there  is 
scarcely  time  for  all  the  work  in  hand.  Arms?  Truth,  I  know 
not;  all  are  wanted  here.  Shelter?  The  town  is  full,  but  per- 
haps Earl  Yniol,  at  the  castle  yonder  beyond  the  bridge,  would  take 
you  in." 

So  Geraint  turned  shortly,  a  little  spleenful  still,  and  rode  on- 
ward to  the  castle  where  a  courteous,  hoary-headed  Earl,  in  a  suit 
of  frayed  magnificence,  listened  kindly  to  his  queries,  and  replied 
cordially:  "  Enter  then,  and  partake  of  the  slender  entertainment 
of  a  house  once  rich,  now  poor,  but  ever  open-doored." 

"  Thanks,  venerable  friend,"  said  Geraint  laughingly.  "  So  you 
do  not  serve  me  sparrow-hawk  for  supper,  I  will  enter  and  eat 
with  all  the  passion  of  a  twelve  hour  fast." 

The  old  Earl  sighed,  then  smiled,  and  answered,  "  Graver  cause 


78       THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THL  KL\G 

than  yours  is  mine  to  curse  this  hciigerovv  thief,  this  Sparrow-hawk! 
But  enter  in;  for,  save  you  yourself  desire  it,  wc  will  not  touch 
upon  him  even  in  jest." 

So  Geraint  rode  into  the  courtyard,  and  looking  about  him  saw 
that  all  was  in  ruirs.  The  prickly  thistle  sprouted  in  the  broken 
stones;  here  was  a  shattered  archway  plumed  with  fern;  there  was 
fallen  a  great  part  of  a  tower,  and  like  a  crag  tumbled  from  a  cliff 
was  gay  with  wild  flowers,  while  high  above  a  piece  of  turret  stair, 
worn  by  feet  now  silent,  lay  bare  in  the  sun;  and  all  about  rose 
craggy  gray  walls  half  covered  wtih  luxuriant,  ambitious  ivy  that 
sought  in  vain  to  spread  an  air  of  life  and  prosperity  over  all.  And, 
as  Geraint  stood  waiting,  he  heard  the  voice  of  a  maiden  singing 
in  her  bower;  and  so  sweet  was  the  voice  that  his  heart  was  moved 
within  him,  and  he  said  to  himself:  "  Here,  by  the  Grace  of  God, 
is  the  one  voice  for  me !  " 

The  song  was  that  of  Fortune  snd  her  wheel,  and  the  maiden 
sang  it  with  spirit,  as  though  bidding  defiance  to  the  ups  and  downs 
of  destiny:  — 

"Turn,  Fortune,  turn  thy  wheel  and  lower  the  proud; 
Turn  thy  wild  wheel  thro'  sunshine,  storm,  and  cloud; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  neither  love  nor  hate. 

"  Turn,  Fortune,  turn  thy  wheel  with  smile  or  frown; 
With  that  wild  wheel  we  go  not  up  or  down ; 
Our  hoard  is  little,  but  our  hearts  are  great. 

"  Smile  and  we  smile,  the  lords  of  many  lands; 
Froun  and  we  smile,  the  lords  of  our  own  hands; 
For  man  is  man  and  master  of  his  fate. 

"  Turn,  turn  thy  wheel  above  the  staring  crowd; 
Thy  wheel  and  thou  are  shadows  in  the  cloud ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  neither  love  nor  hate." 


The  song  ceased,   and  the  singer,  a  beautiful  maiden,   fair  as 
a  vermeil-white  blossom,  and  clad  in  faded  silk,  came  down.     The 


THE  STORY  OF  GERAIM    AND  EMD 


79 


Farl  presented  her  as  his  daughter,  the  Lady  I-'.nid,  and  again 
(icraint  thought:  "  Here  is  the  one  maiden  in  the  world  for  mc." 
"  Enid,"  spoke  the  old  I'larl,  "  the  good  knight's  horse  stands 
in  the  court;  take  hin,  to  stall,  and  give  him  corn,  and  then  go  to  the 
town  and  buy  us  flesh  and  wine;  and  we  will  make  us  merry  as  we 
may.      Our  hoard  is  little,  but  our  hearts  are  great." 

The  maiden  came  forwanl  willingly,  but  Geraint  could  not  bear 
to  have  one  so  daintily  beautiful  wait  upcjn  him  as  a  servant  might, 
anti  eagerly  expressed  his  willingness  to  care  for  his  own  horse. 
Yniol,  howe-.-er,  caught  his  purple  scarf  and  held  him  back,  say- 
ing: "Forbear!  Rest!  The  good  house,  though  ruined,  my 
son,  endures  not  that  her  guest  should  serve  himself." 

And  so  Geraint  was  obliged  by  courtesy  to  yield  to  the  Earl, 
but  his  eyes  followed  the  maiden  and  he  marked  her  proud,  quick- 
stepped  entrance  into  the  town  and  her  coming  forth,  and  always  he 
admired  her  yet  the  more.  Now  the  hall  where  they  sat  was  per- 
force kitchen  and  dining-room  as  well,  so  he  wonderingly  watched 
the  maiden  as  she  moved  quickly  about  preparing  and  serving  the 
meal  with  wondrous  grace  and  sweet  simplicity.  As  she  stood  be- 
hind the  board  and  waited  upon  her  father,  mother,  and  himself, 
he  felt  within  him  a  great  longing  to  kiss  the  dainty  hands  that 
served  him.  And  afterward  as  she  busied  herself  now  here,  now 
there,  about  the  hall  at  her  lowly  handmaid  work,  his  eyes  fol- 
lowed her,  and  he  would  fain  have  offered  help,  yet  dared  not. 

At  last  he  forced  himself  to  turn  aside  and  address  the  Earl. 
"  Fair  host  and  Earl,  I  pray  your  courtesy.  This  Sparrow-hawk, 
what  is  he?  Tell  me  of  him.  But  stay,  tell  me  not  his  name! 
For  if  he  be  that  knight  whom  I  saw  ride  into  the  new  fortress 
beyond  your  town  this  evening,  I  have  sworn  to  force  it  from  him! 
I  am  Geraint  of  Devon,  a  knight  of  Arthur,  and  this  morning  I 
heard  the  strange  knight's  dwarf  offer  insult  to  the  Queen, 
through  her  maid  in  waiting,  by  refusing  to  tell  the  name  of  his  lord 
;'t  the  Queen's  request.  You  see  I  had  ridden  out  but  to  see  the 
I'.unt  and  could  not  fight  him  then,  as  I  had  left  my  armor  at  home. 


8o       THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OP^  THE  KING 

Therefrre,  I  followed  him,  hoping  to  find  arms  wherewith  to  break 
his  pride  and  humble  him  befurc  the  Queen." 

"  Ah  I  "  cried  the  old  I'arl,  with  kindling;  eyes,  "art  thou  in- 
deed Geraint,  he  whose  name  is  tar-soutukd  among  rnen  for  his 
noble  deeds?  Well  might  I  have  known  when  tirbt  1  beheld  your 
stately  presence  that  you  were  one  who  was  wont  to  sit  at  meat 
in  Arthur's  hall  at  Camelot!  My  house  is  honored,  and  happy  am 
i  to  have  you  beneath  my  crumbling  roof  tu-night  1  lull  often  have 
we  heard  praises  of  your  feats  of  arms,  and  this  dear  child  will 
bear  me  witness  that  many  a  time  have  we  discussed  your  noble 
deeds."  'Jhe  Marl  paused  to  draw  the  fair  Knid,  who  had  just 
come  to  his  side,  aflectionately  down  upon  the  wide  arm  of  his 
chair,  and  then  continued,  while  deraint  envied  him  his  privileges: 
"  As  to  this  Sparrow-hawk  whereof  you  speak,  he  is  my  nephew 
and  sometime  suitor  for  this  fair  hand,"  lifting  Enid's  hand 
caressingly  to  his  lips.  "  But  I  knew  his  fierce,  turbulent  spirit, 
and  refused  him,  and  since  —  my  curses  be  upon  him!  —  he  has 
contrived  by  foul  means  to  lay  low  the  house  of  Ynlol.  With  false 
tales  he  raised  my  own  town  against  me  in  the  night,  sacked  my 
house,  ousted  me  from  my  earldom,  and  built  that  fortress  beyond 
the  bridge  to  overawe  my  friends,  for  truly  there  are  those  who 
love  me  yet.  He  keeps  me  isolated  in  this  ruined  castle,  and  why 
he  does  not  kill  me  1  know  not,  unless  it  be  that  he  despises  me 
too  much;  and  I  —  I  sometimes  despise  myself,  for  I  have  sub- 
mitted all  too  gently  and  failed  to  use  my  power,  but  in  my  old  age 
I  am  some  way  very  wise  or  very  foolish,  for  I  can  not  bear  to  fight, 
and  so  I  submit  patiently  to  my  wrongs." 

"  Let  me  fight  for  you,  friend!  "  cried  Geraint,  filled  with  sudden 
pity  for  the  trembling  old  man.  "  My  limbs  are  young  and  strong, 
and  I  am  sworn  to  right  wrong  wherever  found !  Tell  me  where 
I  may  get  arms,  and  at  to-morrow's  tourney  1  will  lay  the  Sparrow- 
hawk  low  in  the  dust.  Right  humbly  shall  he  apologize  to  our 
most  gracious  Queen,  and  every  farthing  of  thine  inheritance  shall 
he  restore  to  thee,  else  will  i  have  his  heart's  blood!  " 


TIIL  STORY  OF  OERAINT  AND  ENID 


8i 


"Spoken  like  a  true  knight  of  Arthur !"  exclaimed  the  Farl. 
"Aye,  son,  and  I  couKl  furnish  you  with  arms.  Old  and  rusted, 
'tis  true,  but  still  tit  to  serve  you  in  ^jood  stead;  but  if  I  did  so,  you 
could  not  fight  the  Sparrow-hawk  at  the  tourney;  for  his  rules  are 
that  no  man  shall  tilt  except  the  lady  he  loves  best  be  there.  1  he 
thing  is  managed  in  this  wise:  two  forks  are  fixed  into  the  meadow 
ground,  and  over  these  is  placed  a  silver  wand,  tipf  1  with  a  golden 
sparrow-hawk.  This  is  the  prize  of  beauty,  and  'tis  given  to  the 
winning  knight  for  the  pleasure  of  his  lady  love.  The  Sparrow- 
hawk  hath  always  won  it  for  the  lady  with  hitn.  and  so  hath  justly 
earned  his  name.  Perforce  thou  seest  why  thou  canst  not  tilt  v  ith 
hini  at  the  tourneys,  but  possibly  thou  wilt  take  the  day  follow- 
ing?" 

"  No,"  cried  Geraint  quickly,  leaning  eagerly  toward  the  old 
man.  "Thy  favoring  kindness,  Earl  Yniol!  Let  me  lay  lance 
for  thy  dear  child,  thine  own  fair  Enid!  Truly  I  have  seen  all 
the  beauties  of  our  time,  but  never  yet  hath  mine  eyes  dwelt  on  one 
so  sweetly  fair  and  pure  as  she!  If  she  be  not  unwilling,  give  her 
to  me  for  my  beloved  wife,  as  a  reward  for  overcoming  the  Sparrow- 
hawk  —  I  care  not  for  the  golden  bauble  —  and  I  swear  to  you 
to  love  and  reverence  her  forevermorel  " 

"  Ahl  "  replied  the  old  man,  looking  at  him  with  kindly,  favor- 
ing eyes,  "  'tis  an  alliance  most  to  be  desired,  but  I  know  not  what 
the  maid  will  say!  "  (Enid  had  left  the  room  when  first  they  be- 
gan to  discuss  the  tourney).  "  I  must  prove  her  heart,  for  never 
would  I  rise  by  the  sacrifice  of  my  child.  Mother,"  turning  to 
the  old  dame  who  now  came  into  the  room,  "  this  knight.  Prince 
Geraint  of  Devon,  wishes  to  tilt  with  the  Sparrow-hawk  and  force 
him  to  give  us  restitution,  desiring  the  hand  of  Enid  as  a  reward. 
/\  maiden  is  a  tender  thing,  best  understood  by  her  who  bore  her. 
Go  thou  and  inquire  of  Enid  concerning  this." 

And  so  the  old  dame  hurried  to  Enid's  room,  where  she  found 
her  half  disrobed  for  the  night.  Kisiing  her  upon  both  cheeks,  she 
laid  her  hands  upon  her  fair,  shining  shoulders  and  held  her  away 


82     thl:  sioRV  OF  iDvi.i.s  oi  nil.  ki.\g 


that  she  riii^^ht  look  into  her  l.uc,  while  she  told  her  of  Prince 
(icraint's  ilcsirc.  Kcil  ami  white  was  I'.nivl's  fair  tuec,  and  tilled 
with  arna/einent,  as  she  listcnetl  to  the  tidings,  so  sudden,  so  un- 
expected that  they  took,  her  breath  away,  and  she  touKl  speak  no 
word,  nor  couKI  she  rest  that  ni^lit.  In  the  morning  she  roused  her 
moiher  ami  together  tlicy  went  down  into  the  tourney  lield,  where 
they  waited  for  her  father  ami  (ieraint.  And  the  younj^  kni^,'ht, 
a<-  lie  came  to  her  side,  felt  that  beatin^^  in  his  heart,  'neath  her 
father's  old  rusty  arin(>r,  which  proclaimed  tiat,  were  l.nid  the 
prize  of  bodily  force,  he  could  win  against  any  odds. 

Soon  the  knights  and  the  ladies  came,  and  the  town  ami  country 
people,  and  they  filled  all  the  space  about  the  lists.  Then  the 
Sparrow-hawk  blew  loud  upon  his  trumpet,  and  bowing  low  be- 
fore the  lady  at  his  side,  said  gallantly:  "  Advance,  and  take  the 
golden  prize  as  fairest  of  the  fair;  for  I  these  two  years  past  have 
won  it  for  thee,  most  worthy  lady  of  the  prize  ot  beauty." 

"  Stay!  "  called  Prince  Geraint  in  a  loud  voice.  "  There  is  one 
more  worthy  here  !  " 

"How  now!"  cried  the  Sparrow-hawk  in  surprise  and  wrath, 
and  turning  beheld  the  old  I'.arl,  his  uncle,  and  his  wife  and  I'.nid, 
with  the  handsome,  challenging  knight  beside  her.  "  Do  battle 
for  it  then!  "  he  stammered,  choked  with  passion  at  the  sight,  and 
rushed  toward  Geraint. 

"  The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee,  my  knight,"  murmured 
Enid  so  kindly  and  sweetly  as  Geraint  bent  over  her  hand  in  brief 
farewell,  that,  unmindful  of  the  \  ast  throng,  he  stooped  and  kissed 
her  tenderly  upon  the  forehead  ere  he  rushed  headlong  to  meet 
the  on-coming  Sparrow-hawk. 

l^en  the  strife  began,  and  never  was  so  great  a  fight  seen  there- 
abouts before.  Thrice  they  chargetl,  and  each  time  broke  their 
lances.  Quickly  they  dismounted  and  made  at  one  another  with 
their  swords.  So  furious  were  thei"-  strokes  that  at  each  one  the 
bystanders  thought  to  sec  the  battle  ended.  Twice  they  rested, 
and  then  came  on  again,  and  many  a  wound  did  either  give  and  re- 


THF  STORY  OF  G^^.AlN'l    AND  ENID        83 

ccive,  but  nt-ithcr  \\.u\  the  ni.istcry,  till  at  last  1  .irl  Vtuol  cried 
lustily:  *'  Ktiiifmbir  tin-  ^rcat  invilt  done  to  the  Queen."  nu-n 
(Kralnt  ^athcnd  all  his  force  into  one  lust  blow,  and  so  mighty 
was  the  stroke  that  it  sriimo  throuj^h  the  helmet  and  bit  the  bone 
.iiul  iVlleil  the  Sparrow-hawk  to  the  ground. 

"  TJI  me  thy  name  I  "  commanded  the  I'rince  stcrnlv,  setting  his 
loot  upon  the  tallen  man's  breast. 

"  Idyrn,  son  of  Nudd!"  moaned  the  Sparrow-hawk.  "Woe 
is  me !  Ashameil  am  I  to  tell  it  to  thee.  My  pride  is  broken :  men 
have  seen  my  fall." 

"  Iher.,  I'.dyrn.  son  of  Nudd."  replied  Geraint.  "these  two 
thingc  shalt  thou  do,  or  else  thou  diest:  first,  with  thy  lady  and  thy 
dwarf  In  company,  thou  shalt  ritle  to  Arthur';,  court  and  crave  lowly 
purdon  of  the  Queen  for  the  insult  offered  in  the  grove  by  the 
Severn;  r':\t  thou  shalt  restore  to  the  utteiinost  farthing  all  that 
thou  hast  taken  of  the  Farl,  thine  uncle.  These  two  things  shalt 
ihou  do,  or  thou  shalt  die." 

"  Stay  thy  hand.  Prince."  answered  Edyrn  sadly.  "  These  things 
will  I  do  willingly.  P'or  now  that  thou  hast  broken  my  pride,  and 
the  fair  I'lnid  has  seen  my  fall  and  rejoices,  I  repent.  It  is  meet 
that  I  do  works  worthy  of  repentance." 

The  young  knight  rose  humbly  and  journeyed  to  Queen 
(iuinevere  where  he  begged  pardon  on  his  bended  knees  for  his 
traitorous  life.  So  kindly  did  the  beautiful  Queen  receive  him, 
and  so  earnestly  did  she  beseech  him  to  turn  to  the  right,  that  he 
swore  to  fight  for  the  King  and  the  Christ  throughout  all  his  life, 
and  ever  after  kept  the  vow  unsullied. 

But  Geraint  returned  with  Yniol  to  the  castle,  and  that  night 
pleaded  with  Enid  that  she  go  with  him  to  wed  at  the  Court  of 
Arthur  on  the  morrow  that  being  the  day  he  had  promised  the 
Queen  he  would  return.  Enid  blushingly  consented,  though  she 
would  fain  have  postponed  the  date  that  she  might  replenish  her 
faded  wardrobe  and  so  do  honor  to  her  lord,  yet  she  dared  not 
mention  it  for  fear  of  grieving  him. 


84      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KiNG 

"  He  seems  so  bent  on  going,"  she  mused,  as  she  sought  the 
privacy  of  her  chamber,  "  that  it  were  little  grace  for  me  to  ask 
a  second  favor  of  him,  so  much  are  we  now  beholden!  But  sweet 
Heaven!  How  much  I  shall  discredit  h"m,  so  noble  are  his  acts 
and  so  splendid  his  attire!  Did  he  but  iee  fit  to  tarry  yet  a  day 
or  two,  I  would  work  eye  dim  and  finger  lame  to  prepare  fitting 
raiment.  O,  woe  is  me!  to  appear  before  the  great  Queen  in 
faded  apparel,  unfit  even  for  a  kitchen-maid!  " 

And  so  thinking,  the  maiden  fell  longing  for  a  certain  beau- 
tiful dress,  all  branched  and  flowered  with  gold,  that  her  mother 
had  given  her  on  h.r  birthday  eve,  the  night  Sir  Edyrn  sacked  their 
houie  and  scattered  all  to  the  four  winds.  "  Oh,"  she  mourned, 
"  did  I  but  know  where  it  had  been  hid,  then  I  might  appear  before 
the  Queen  In  fitting  raiment!  " 

WTiIle  she  sat  fearing  more  and  more  the  thought  of  going 
so  ill-clad  before  tl.t  Queen  and  all  the  splendor  of  the  Court,  her 
mother  came  to  her  bringing  a  package  which  she  said  had  just 
been  brought  by  a  villager  and  contained  a  sweet  surprise.  And 
lo!  when  Enlcl  had  unbound  it,  there  rolled  out  the  very  gown  for 
which  she  had  been  wishing. 

"  Aye,"  cried  the  mother,  glad  In  her  daughter's  tearful  joy, 
"  don  It  in  the  morning,  child.  Now  the  beautiful  Queen  can  not 
say  '  the  Prince  hath  plucked  a  ragged  robin  from  the  hedge ! '  For 
though  I  heard  him  call  you  fairest  of  the  fair,  think  not,  girl, 
that  you  will  not  he  the  fairer  to  him  in  new  dress  than  In  old." 

But  In  the  morning  when  Gcraint  rose  early  and  made  himself 
ready  for  the  journey,  calling  eagerly  for  his  bride-to-be,  and  Ynlcl 
told  him  she  would  be  down  ere  long,  that  her  mother  was  proudly 
decking  her  In  apparel  fit  even  for  the  Court  of  Arthur,  Geraint 
became  perplexed  and  troubled,  and  at  last  begged  the  Earl  eagerly, 
saying:  "  Sir,  entreat  her  by  my  love,  albeit  I  give  no  reason  but 
my  wish,  that  she  ride  with  me  In  her  faded  silk." 

Imagine  the  consternation  this  message  created  In  the  chamber 
where  the  old  dame  stood  admiring  her  beautiful  daughter  and 


THE  STORY  OF  GERAINT  AND  ENID       85 

likenii.g  her  unto  a  fair  bride  who  was  created  out  of  flowers!  But 
Enid,  all  abashed,  although  she  knew  not  why,  tremblingly  obeyed 
the  request  and  laid  aside  the  rich  robe,  not  daring  to  look  at  her 
silent  mother,  and  so  came  down  in  silence  in  her  faded,  clir  ,'.ig 
silk. 

And  Geraint,  when  he  marked  her  sweet  submission,  loved  her 
yet  the  more,  but,  seeing  her  mother's  brow  still  clouded  with  dis- 
appointment, made  haste  to  her,  saying:  "Good  mother,  take  it 
not  ill  that  I  have  asked  this  thing.  Two  reasons  there  are  — 
one,  that  our  Queen  Guinevere,  when  I  left  three  days  since,  prom- 
ised me  that  if  I  would  bring  my  bride  to  her,  whensoever  I  found 
her,  she  would  clothe  her  like  the  sun.  And  I  am  minded  to  ac- 
cept this  sweet  service,  for  the  two  bound  together  so  graciously 
may  learn  to  love  each  other  —  and  where  could  Enid  find  a  nobler 
friend  ?  Next,  I  desired  to  make  proof  of  her  love,  for  if  she  could 
at  a  word  from  me  put  aside  a  thing  so  dear  to  all  women,  then 
might  I  be  sure  that  her  heart  was  whollv  mine.  A  propl.et  certain 
of  my  prophecy,  now  am  I  assured  that  never  shadow  of  distrust 
shall  come  between  us!  Some  day  will  I  make  amends  for  my  hard 
petition." 

Then  the  two  journeyed  away  to  Caerleon.  and  from  the  top- 
most tower,  where  she  sat  on  the  watch.  Queen  Guinevere  saw  them 
coming  up  the  vale  of  Usk  and  hastened  down  and  out  to  greet 
them.  Right  royally  did  she  welcome  them  and  shortly  had  Enid 
arrayed  in  magnificent  bridal  splendor.  Then  the  two  were  wedded 
by  the  priestly  Dubric,  and  all  that  week  high  festival  was  held  at 
Court.  And  for  many  moons  Geraint  and  Enid  dwelt  at  Caerleon- 
on-Usk,  and  the  Queen  and  Enid  became  great  friends,  and  Geraint 
rejoiced  greatly  at  their  friendship,  for  it  pleased  his  pride  to  see 
his  wife  the  favorite  of  the  noblest  lady  in  the  land. 

Now  Geraint  loved  his  wife  better  than  life  itself,  and  It  was 
his  pleasure  to  array  her  in  splendid  T;owns  and  dazzling  jewels  and 
to  delight  in  her  exceeding  great  beauty.  And  Enid,  though  not 
caring  greatly  for  such  things,  was  yet  glad  to  make  herself  pleas- 


86      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  Tin:  KING 

ing  in  her  husband's  eyes,  for  he  was  ail  the  world  to  her.  Daily- 
she  appeared  hefor-  Geraint  in  some  new  splendor,  and  often  the 
lily-white  hands  of  Quccii  vjumcvcic  helped  in  the  adorning,  nor 
ever  did  she  give  an  envious  thought  to  the  fact  that  her  favorite 
lady-in-waiting's  beauty  might  outshine  her  own.  But  the  Queen 
and  Lady  Enid  could  never  be  rivals,  for  they  were  the  exact  oppo- 
site in  their  beauty:  fair  as  an  Easter  lily  was  Guinevere,  and  her 
golden  hair,  woven  into  rich,  shining  coils,  made  for  her  a  crown 
lovelier  than  any  turned  by  the  hands  of  man;  while  Enid's  tropical 
beauty  glowed  like  the  red,  southern  rose;  and  dark  as  midnight 
were  the  tresses  that  framed  her  brow  in  wavy  tendrils. 

Finally  a  little  cloud  arose  that  threatened  for  a  time  to  dim 
the  brightness  of  Geraint's  new  joy.     There  floated  slowly  through 
the  Court  an  evil  rumor  concerning  the  Queen,  saying  that  fhe  King 
no  longer  had  her  heart,  and,  indeed,  that  he  had  never  possessed 
it,  but  that  it  was  given  to  Lancelot;  and  that  Lancelot,  the  King's 
most  trusted  knight  and  closest  friend,  returned  her  love,  and  was 
thereoy  false  to  the  King  and  to  his  solemn  vows  of  knighthood. 
Of  course  Arthur  knew  nothing  of  this;  neither  was  any  one  else 
certain,  but  there  was  much  talk.     And  the  matter  troubled  Geraint 
greatly.     His  dear  wife,  Enid,  was  so  closely  bound  to  the  Queen 
by  friendship  that  he  feared  she  might  in  some  degree  be  touched 
by  the  breath  of  scandal,  and  the  thought  was  torture  to  him.     At 
last  he  went  to  the  King  and  begged  permission  to  withdraw  from 
the  Court  for  a  time  to  his  own  princedom  in  Devon,  saying  that 
robbers  and  marauders  were  molesting  his  estate  and  that  his  pres- 
ence was  needed  to  quell  them.     King  Arthur,  all  unsuspicious  of  the 
true  reason,  although  wondering  greatly,  consented  and  Geraint  and 
Enid  rode  away,  with  fifty  knights  to  accompany  them.    "  And  now," 
thought  Geraint  contentedly,  "  if  ever  wife  were  true  to  her  lord, 
mine  shall  be  to  me;  for  in  this  quiet  home  of  ours,  far  away  from 
the  poisonous  influences  of  the  Court,  nothing  can  cone  between 
us." 

For   a   time   all   went  well,   but   Geraint's   mind   h.-.xd   dwelt   so 


THE  STORY  OF  GERAINT  AND  ENID 


87 


long  on  his  foolish  fears  that  he  could  not  think  clearly,  and  the 
one  thought  —  how  to  keep  his  wife's  love  —  dwelt  with  him  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  others.  He  became  so  absorbed  in  pleasing  her 
that  he  scarce  left  her  for  a  moment,  and  took  no  heed  whatever 
of  ruling  his  province,  of  hunting  or  of  joining  in  the  tourney,  and 
no  delight  in  the  society  of  his  peers,  thereby  bringing  shame  and 
ridicule  upon  himself  and  upon  Enid,  who  was  blamed  for  his  care- 
less sloth.  And  the  matter  grieved  Enid  sorely,  for  her  lord's 
name  was  very  dear  to  her;  and  she  longed  to  tell  him  what  peo- 
ple were  saying,  and  to  ask  if  it  were  her  fault  that  he  no  longer 
cared  for  knightly  deeds,  but  shame  and  the  fear  of  grieving  him 
tied  her  tongue. 

Finally,  there  came  a  morning  when  Enid  awoke  before  her  hus- 
band, and,  leaving  her  place  at  his  side,  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat 
beside  him  marveling  at  his  strength  and  beauty,  for  his  arms  and 
chest  were  bare  in  the  bright  warm  sunshine  which  beat  in  upon 
him.  "  O  noble  breast  and  mighty  arms,"  she  murmured,  "  am  I 
the  cause  that  all  your  glory  and  your  fame  is  gone,  and  that  men 
reproach  you,  saying  your  manlincs  •  is  no  more  ?  'Tis  true,  Geraint, 
I  am,  because  I  dare  not  tell  what  people  say.  And  yet,  rather 
than  have  things  as  they  are,  how  gladly  would  I  gird  thy  harness 
on  thee  and  ride  by  thy  side  to  battle,  and  even  see  thee  wounded 
—  aye,  wounded  perhaps  to  death!  Now,  here  have  I  the  courage 
for  this  great  sacrifice,  and  yet  am  not  brave  enough  to  speak  the 
truth  as  a  true  wife  should!     Ah  me!     I  fear  I  am  no  true  wife." 

As  she  spoke,  her  tears  fell  fast  upon  his  face  and  breast,  and 
he  awoke,  hearing  by  great  misfortune  only  her  last  words  —  that 
she  feared  she  was  not  a  true  wife.  "Just  Heaven!  "  he  thought, 
"  in  spite  of  all  my  care,  and  for  all  my  pains,  she  Is  not  faithful 
to  me,  and  I  see  her  weeping  for  some  gay  knight  in  Arthur's 
hall!" 

Th?  thought  goaded  him  sc  fiercely  that,  without  a  single  in- 
quiring word,  which  might  have  set  all  clear  between  them,  he 
sprang  quickly  to  the  floor  and  called  gruffly  to  his  squire:      "  Make 


f'l 


88       THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

ready  my  horse  and  arms  and  thy  lady's  palfrey;  I  vdl  ride  into 
the  wilderness."  Then,  turning  to  F.nid,  he  said  in  a  voice  he  never 
had  used  to  her  before:  "  It  seems  that  my  spurs  are  yet  to  win! 
I  have  not  fallen  so  low  as  some  would  wish.  Do  thou  put  on  thy 
worst  and  meanest  dress  and  ride  with  me." 

Enid  vas  frightened  and  amazed,  not  knowing  why  he  was  angry, 
and  faltered  tearfully.  "If  I  have  done  wrong,  let  me  at  least 
know  my  fault." 

"  Question  me  not,"  replied  Geraint  harshly,  "  but  do  my  bid- 
ding." 

So  Enid  turned  away  sorrowfully,  and  as  she  did  so  she  be- 
thought her  of  the  old  and  faded  silk  in  which  Geraint  had  first 
seen  and  loved  her.  Eagerly  she  brought  out  the  cherished  robe 
and  donned  it  hopefully,  saying  to  herself:  "  Surely  when  my  lord 
sees  this  dress,  his  heart  will  soften,  and  he  will  tell  me  what  griev.-'i 
him  and  take  me  into  his  love  again." 

But,  poor  girl,  Geraint  had  no  eyes  for  gowns  that  morning. 
Perhaps  he  dared  not  look  at  her  for  fear  the  tempest  in  his  heart 
would  burst  in  thunder  round  her  head.  "  Ride  thou  a  good  way 
on  before,"  he  commanded  briefly,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  his 
saddle  girths.  "  And  I  charge  thee,  on  thy  duty  as  a  wife,  what- 
ever happens,  do  not  speak  to  me  —  no,  not  a  word!  " 

And  Enid  more  frightened  than  before,  silently  obeyed,  but 
scarcely  three  paces  had  they  passed  when  Geraint  cried  out  spleen- 
fully.  "  Effeminate  as  I  am,  I  will  not  fight  my  way  with  gilded 
arms;  all  shall  be  iron,"  and  straightway  foolishly  threw  his  heavy 
purse  toward  his  squire. 

So  the  last  view  Enid  had  of  her  home  was  the  marble  threshold 
all  shining  with  gold  and  scattered  coin;  and  the  insulted  squire 
chaffing  his  shoulder  where  the  purse  had  struck. 

"  To  the  wilds!  "  cried  Geraint,  pointing  the  way  to  the  marsh 
lands,  where  bandits  and  savage  beasts  were  most  apt  to  abound. 
And  they  fared  forth,  each  busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  and  it  was 
hard  to  say  which  carried  the  heavier  heart.     A  stranger  meeting 


THE  STORY  OF  GERAINT  AND  ENID        89 

them  would  have  said  at  once,  from  their  pale  faces  and  disturbed 
mien,  that  each  had  suffered  some  exceeding  wrong.  Ever  Enid 
cast  about  in  her  heart  to  divine  her  fault,  and  anon  murmured 
prayers  for  the  safety  of  her  lord.  And  Geraint  cursed  his 
siupidity  for  wasting  so  much  time  in  attending  his  wife,  dressing 
her  beautifully  and  striving  to  keep  her  true,  groaning  over  the 
thoughts  that  would  arise  ! 

Toward  noon  Enid  became  aware  of  three  armed  knights  lying 
in  wait  for  them  in  t.'ie  shadow  of  a  rock,  and  she  heard  them  say, 
"  Look!  Here  comes  a  laggard  k  itrht  who  seems  no  bolder  than 
a  beaten  hound.  See  how  his  head  hangs  down  1  Let  us  set  upon 
him  and  slay  him  and  his  horse  and  armor  and  damsel  shall  be 
ours." 

Then  Enid  pondered  in  her  heart,  saying:  "  I  will  go  back 
and  warn  my  lord  of  these  caitiffs,  lest  they  slay  him,  for  he  sees 
them  not.  If  he  is  angry  with  me  and  kills  me,  far  better  had  I 
die  by  his  dear  hand  than  that  he  should  suffer  shame." 

Geraint  received  her  in  foolish  wrath :  "  Did  I  wish  your  warn- 
ing or  your  silence?  Have  you  forgotten  my  command?  Well, 
then,  look —  for  whether  you  wish  me  victory  or  defeat;  long  for 
my  life,  or  hunger  for  my  death  —  you  shall  see  my  vigor  is  not 
lost." 

Tears  filled  Enid's  eyes,  for  she  was  all  unused  to  unkind  words; 
and  she  covered  her  face  despairingly,  fearing  that  her  husband 
would  be  overthrown.  But  anger  made  Geraint  all-powerful. 
With  a  savage  cry  as  though  giad  to  have  something  on  which  to 
vent  his  spleen,  he  rushed  upon  the  bandits,  and  with  one  powerful 
stroke  drove  his  spear  through  the  first  of  them  a  cubit's  length. 
The  other  two  now  charged  upon  him,  but  their  lances  splintered 
upon  his  heavy  armor  like  straws,  and  in  two  strokes  he  slew  them 
both.  Then  he  took  off  their  armor  and  bound  it  upon  their  horses, 
and  hade  Enid  drive  the  animals  on  before  her.  She  obeyed  with- 
out a  word,  and  as  Geraint  followed  her,  somewhat  nearer  than 
before,  his  heart  smote  him  for  his  cruelty,  and  would  fain  have  had 


90      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

him  take  pity  upon  her  and  help  her  in  her  hard  unlearn.  1  task. 
But  he  stolidly  refused  and  nursed  his  wrath  in  silence. 

Scarcely  had  they  gone  a  mile  when  Enid  became  aware  of  three 
other  mounted  bandits  at  the  edge  of  a  wood,  and  one  of  them 
seemed  heavier  than  Geraint,  and  filled  her  heart  with  fear  by  his 
boastings:  "  See,  here  cometh  a  prize  —  three  horses  armor-laden 
and  driven  by  a  single  fair  damsel.  A  good  knight  following? 
Aye,  but  a  cowardly  dog,  else  would  he  not  put  so  much  upon  a 
maiden!  Come,  let  us  fall  upon  him  and  take  his  damsel  and  his 
goods." 

"  Alas,"  murmured  Enid  to  herself,  "  I  must  disobey  my  husband 
again  I  He  is  not  on  his  guard,  and  full  weary  with  his  former 
fight.  Yea,  though  it  displeases  him,  I  must  speak,  for  his  life  Is 
dearer  to  me  than  my  own." 

So  she  waited  for  him  to  come  up  and  faced  him  timidly,  saying: 
"Have  I  leave  to  speak?"     Then  told  him  all. 

Geraint  listened  impatiently  as  before,  then  turned  upon  her 
roughly:  "If  there  were  a  hundred  in  the  wood,  and  every  man 
were  larger  limbed  than  I,  and  all  at  once  should  sally  out  upon  me, 
I  swear  it  would  not  ruffle  me  so  much  as  you  who  do  not  obey  me  I 
Stand  aside,  and  If  I  fall,  cleave  to  the  better  man." 

And  Enid  turned  away  to  wait  the  event,  not  daring  to  watch,  and 
scarcely  feeling  within  herself  strength  to  breathe  in  prayer.  Then 
he  she  dreaded  most,  bore  fiercely  down  upon  her  lord.  But  his 
lance  missed,  and  Geraint's  own  spear  drove  straight  through  his 
shield  and  corselet,  and  there  broke  short,  felling  the  huge  robber 
from  oH  his  horse.  His  companions  came  on  slowly,  their  leader's 
death  filling  all  their  veins  with  fear.  Geraint,  seeing  this,  bellowed 
forth  a  fearful  battle  cry,  and  the  knaves  turned  and  fled.  But  he 
would  not  suffer  them  to  escape,  and  so  set  upon  and  slew  them. 
Then,  binding  their  armor  to  the  horses,  as  before,  saving  the 
lance  which  pleased  him  most,  he  bade  Enid  to  add  them  to  her 
charge. 

Once  more  the  odd  procession  started,  and  Geraint  followed 


THE  STORY  OF  GERAINT  AND  ENTD        91 

nearer  than  before,  half-fascinated,  despite  his  anger,  by  the  skill 
with  which  his  wife  managed  her  wayward  horses,  six  of  them  with 
their  jingling  arms.  Indeed,  after  a  time,  he  fancied  that  the 
bandit  horses  pricked  their  light  ears  and  strove  to  do  their  best 
to  help  the  good  friend  who  directed  them  with  firm  voice  and  kind 
government,  and  his  heart  again  reproached  him.  So  that  when 
they  came  to  the  end  of  the  wood  and  found  some  mowers  at  work 
in  the  field,  and  a  lad  bearing  victuals  to  them,  he  took  compassion 
on  her  paleness,  and  stopped  the  boy,  saying:  "  My  son,  let  the 
dai..jel  eat,  she  is  so  faint." 

"  Vea,  willingly,"  replied  the  lad.  "  and  do  thou,  my  lord,  cat 
also,  for  though  the  food  is  coarse  'twill  give  thee  strength." 

So  Geraint  and  Enid  dismounted,  sitting  down  in  the  fragrant 
hay,  while  their  horses  grazed  at  will  near  by,  and  they  partook  of 
the  humble  fare,  or  rather  Geraint  did,  for  Enid  was  too  sore  at 
heart  to  eat  and  she  only  pretended  to  do  so,  fearing  to  rouse  her 
lord's  ire  by  refusal.  At  last  Geraint,  reaching  into  the  basket  for 
more,  found  to  his  dismay  that  he  had  eaten  all.  "  Boy,"  he  cried, 
"my  appetite  hath  outrun  my  manners!  I  have  emptied  the 
basket.  But  I  will  reward  thee  fairly,  for  never  before  did  food 
taste  so  good.  Choose  thou  a  horse  and  arms  from  the  captive 
six,  and  take  the  best." 

"  My  lord,"  exclaimed  the  boy,  reddening  with  delight,  "  you 
overpay  me  fifty-fold!  " 

"  You  will  be  all  the  wealthier  then,"  answered  Prince  Geraint 
merrily. 

"  I  take  it  as  a  free  gift,  then,  not  as  a  reward;  for  while  your 
damsel  rests  I  can  easily  go  to  the  Court  and  get  more  food,  and, 
while  there,  I  will  tell  the  Earl  about  you.  He  loves  to  know  when 
men  of  rank  are  in  his  territory,  and  will  fetch  you  to  his  palace  and 
serve  you  with  food  more  fit  than  mower's  fare." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Geraint  quickly.  "  I  ask  for  no  better  food 
than  that  which  I  have  just  eaten.  And  into  the  Earl's  palace  I 
will  not  go!      I  know,  God  knows,  too  much  now  of  palaces!     Get 


92      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

thee  to  the  inn  and  secure  us  harhoraRc  for  the  night.     Then,  if 
thy  Earl  desires  to  speak  with  me,  let  him  eeek  mn  there." 

So  the  lad  went  away  happily,  leading  his  chosen  horse,  with  his 
head  held  high  as  though  he  fancied  himself  a  knight,  and  (Jeraint 
and  Enid  stayed  in  the  field;  nor  spoke  to  one  another,  he  drowsing 
m  the  heat  and  albeit  half-musing  of  his  prophecy  on  their  marriage 
morn  that  naught  could  ever  come  between  them,  and  she  thinking 
of  their  strange  adventure  and  longing  wistfully  for  her  lord  to 
take  her  into  his  arms  again. 

Finally  the  messenger  returned,  and  they  moved  to  the  house  he 
told  them  of,  and  remained  till  evening  time,  apart  by  all  the 
chamber's  width  and  silent  as  two  moody,  drooping  mutes.  Then 
came  a  loud  discordant  voice  without,  and  their  door  drove  suddenly 
backward  against  the  wall  and  the  Earl  and  a  party  of  rioting 
friends  bolted  into  their  presence.  Startled  and  withal  ashamed, 
Enid  was  dismayed  to  recognize  in  the  wild  lord  of  the  place  the 
Earl  Limours,  a  former  much-scorned  suitor,  but  she  gave  no  sign. 
So  Geraint  welcomed  him  cordially,  and  called  for  wine  and  goodly 
cheer  to  feast  the  sudden  guests. 

When  the  drinking  and  feasting  was  at  its  height.  Earl  Limours, 
made  bold  by  the  wine  which  coursed  madly  through  his  veins, 
turned  to  Geraint  and  asked  permission  to  cross  the  room  and  speak 
with  his  good  damsel,  who  seemed  so  pale  and  lonely.  "  Aye,  take 
my  free  leave,"  replied  the  Prince  shortly.  "Get  her  to  speak; 
she  doth  not  speak  to  me." 

And  Limours,  looking  at  his  feet,  arose  and  crossed  to  Enid's 
side,  where  he  bowed  low  and  whispered  admiringly,  "  Enid,  the 
pilot  star  of  my  lone  life;  Enid,  my  early  and  my  only  love; 
Enid,  the  loss  of  whom  hath  turned  me  wild  — what  chance  is 
this?  How  is  it  I  see  you  here,  and  in  my  power?  But  stay,  girl, 
fear  me  not;  for  in  my  heart,  despite  my  wildness,  is  a  touch 
of  sweet  cWiUty.  Methought  that  in  the  old  days  you  would  have 
favored  me,  but  for  your  father.  Was  it  so?  Tell  me  now; 
make  me  a  little  happier.     Do  you  :;ot  owe  me  something  for 


THE  STORY  OF  GERAINT  AND  ENID       93 

a  life  half  lost?  Yea,  the  whole  dear  debt  of  all  you  are!  And, 
Enid,  I  see  with  joy  that  you  and  he  sit  apart  and  do  not  speak; 
you  come  with  no  pajje  or  maid  to  serve  you  —  doth  he  love  you 
as  of  old?  Nay,  call  it  not  a  lover's  quarrel!  I  know  men  may 
bicker  with  thin(^s  thty  love,  but  they  do  not  make  them  lauj^hahle 
in  the  eyes  of  all.  Your  wretched  dress  is  an  insult  to  your  r- 
son,  and  'tis  plain  your  beauty  is  no  beauty  to  him  now.  Think 
not  you  will  win  him  back.  1  know  men,  and  a  man's  love  once 
gone  never  returns.  But  here  is  one  who  loves  you  as  of  old, 
the  one  true  lover  whom  you  ever  owned;  speak  but  a  word,  and 
he  shall  cross  our  path  no  more!  See,  he  sits  surrounded  by  my 
followers!  If  I  but  hold  up  my  finger  they  will  understand. 
Zounds!  Enid,  do  not  look  so  frightened  I  I  mean  not  blood; 
my  malice  is  no  deeper  than  a  moat,  or  stronger  than  a  wall!  " 

He  paused  for  very  breath,  and  Enid  shrank  timidly  from  the 
impassioned  ga/e  of  his  wine-heated  eyes.  She  longed  to  fly  to 
Geraint  for  shelter,  yet  dared  noi  in  his  present  mood,  and  so  was 
forced  to  trust  to  her  woman's  wit  to  protect  her.  "  Earl,"  she 
murmured  softly,  "  if,  indeed,  you  love  me  as  in  (^ormer  years,  and 
seek  not  to  betray  me,  come  in  the  morning  and  snatch  him  from 
me  by  violence.  Leave  me  here  to-night,  I  pray  thee,  for  I  am 
weary  to  the  death." 

Low  bowed  the  Earl  till  his  brandished  plume  brushed  his  in- 
stpri,  then  turned  swiftly  and  bade  the  Prince  good  night  and  de- 
par'.^  i  homeward,  bragging  to  his  men  that  the  fair  Enid  never 
lovea  man  but  him,  nor  cared  a  broken  egg-shell  for  her  lord  I 
And  i'.nid,  left  alone  with  Prince  Geraint,  sat  pondering  how 
she  could  best  break  her  lord's  command  of  silence  and  tell  him 
all  that  troubled  her.  As  she  wrestled  with  her  thoughts,  the 
calmness  of  the  room  bore  in  upon  her,  and  turning  she  saw  that 
Geraint  had  fallen  back  in  deep  sleep  upon  the  couch  where  he 
sat.  Swiftly  she  flew  to  his  side,  and,  settling  him  in  a  com- 
fortable position,  hung  over  him  in  a  rush  of  tenderness,  noting 
his  firm,   deep  breathing,   and  thanking  God  that  he  had  passed 


94      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

throuRh  the  day's  perils  in  safety.  Finally,  overcome  with  fatigue, 
she  leaned  against  him  and  slept  a  troubled  sleep  till  the  cot.k, 
crowing  at  dawn,  awakenctl  her.  Kisin^j;  up,  she  endeavored  to 
collect  and  arrange  her  husband's  armor,  and,  while  bungling  at 
her  unusual  task,  let  it  tall  jingling  to  the  floor.  Immediately 
(Icraint  rose  up  and  stared  at  her,  and  Fnid  broke  the  silence 
he  had  commanded  and  told  him  all  Farl  I.iriiours  had  said,  sav- 
mg  the  passage  touching,  her  husband's  love,  and  ended  by  craving 
his  pardon  for  her  own  crafty  reply. 

'I  hough  his  mind  still  dwelt  upon  her  words  of  the  previous 
morning,  Geraint  could  find  no  fault  with  her  now  in  word  or 
deed,  so  he  bade  her  order  their  horses  brought.  Quickly  F.nid 
roused  the  sleepmg  host,  and  then,  all  unasked,  aided  her  lord  to 
don  his  armor.  Sallying  forth  Geraint  bade  thr  amazed  land- 
lord keep  five  horses  and  their  armor  for  his  pay,  then,  as  he 
assisted  his  wife  to  mount,  charged  her,  saying:  "Enid,  I  es- 
pecially ask  to-day  that,  whatsoever  you  may  hear  or  sec,  you 
warn  me  not.     See  that  you  obey." 

"  Yea,  my  lortl,"  answered  Enid  sadly,  "  'tis  ever  my  wish  to 
obey  you,  but  your  command  is  a  hard  one,  when  I  must  ride 
in  advance  and  hear  the  evil  threats,  and  note  the  danger  which 
you  seem  rot  to  see." 

"  3e  not  too  wise,"  answered  Geraint  unkindly,  "  seeing  that 
you  are  wedded  to  a  man  who  hath  arms  to  guard  his  head  and 
yours,  eyes  to  find  you  out  however  far,  and  ears  to  hear  you  even 
in  his  dreams." 

Forward  toward  the  WLSte  earldom  of  Doorm  they  traveled,  and 
Enid's  heart  trembled  within  her;  for  the  Earl  of  Doorm,  whom 
his  trembling  vassals  called  "  the  bull,"  was  known  far  and  wide 
for  his  strength  und  fierceness.  In  a  short  time  her  straining  ears 
heard  the  tramp  of  horses'  hoofs  away  in  their  rear,  and,  turn- 
ing, she  beheld  a  cloud  of  dust.  Now  Geraint  rode  in  sullen 
silence  as  though  he  heard  them  not,  so  she  rode  toward  him  and, 
lifting   her  hand,   pointed   to   the   oncoming  cloud.      Pleased  with 


THK  STORY  OF  GKRAINT  AND  ENID        9? 

what   he   termcil   her  ohcdlcncc   to  his   command,   CJcraint  turncil 
ami  waited  the  onslaught. 

In  a  moment,  I.imours,  borne  on  a  Mack  horse,  "  like  a  thunder- 
cloud whose  skins  are  loosened  by  the  breaking  storm,"  dashed 
up  and  closed  with  him.  But  Geraint  smote  him  heavily  to  the 
earth,  and  overthrew  the  next  who  followed,  and  charged  single- 
handed  the  small  brigade  of  knights  behind.  At  his  first  cry 
of  battle  the  rogues  fled  panic-stricken,  this  way  and  that,  like  a 
shoal  of  darting  fish  that  scatters  in  a  moment  at  the  warning 
shadow  of  a  man's  hand  on  the  stream. 

"What  think  you  of  your  lover  now?"  cried  the  Prince,  with 
ill-advised  humor.  "Has  your  palfrey  heart  enough  to  bear  his 
armor?  Shall  we  strip  him  of  it,  and  buy  therewith  a  dinner  for 
ourselves?     Say,  which  shall  it  be,  fast  or  dine?" 

But  I'.nid,  half-angered  by  his  coarseness,  spoke  never  a  word 
in  reply,  and  led  the  way  onward,  her  tcar-hlind  eyes  fixed  steadily 
upon  her  bridle-reins.  And  so  they  journeyed,  Geraint  suffering 
in  silence  from  a  wound  received  in  his  late  combat,  and  grimly 
determined  to  speak  not  a  word  of  it  to  his  wife,  till  his  eye  dark- 
ened and  his  helmet  trembled,  and,  at  a  sudden  turn  In  the  road, 
he  went  down  In  a  heap  upon  a  bank  of  grass.  In  a  moment, 
however,  his  wronged  uiie  was  beside  him,  and  had  swiftly  un- 
fastened his  armor  till  .le  found  the  wound  and  bound  it  up  in 
her  faded  veil.  Tb.n,  fearing  that  perhaps  he  was  hurt  to  the 
death,  the  horror  of  it  all  charged  her  overwrought  nerves,  and 
she  sank  down  beside  the  way  weeping  heart-brokenly. 

Many  passed  but  none  heeded  them;  for  it  was  no  uncommon 
sight  in  those  days  to  see  a  woman  weeping  by  the  side  of  her  fallen 
knight.  A  fugitive  fleeing  from  the  wrath  of  Doorm  tore  past, 
and  frightened  her  palfrey  so  that  he  ran  away  'r.to  the  bushes  and 
was  lost,  but  the  noble  war-horse  stood  by  like  a  staunch  friend, 
and  tried  to  stay  her  grief  by  rubbing  a  sympathizing  nose  against 
her  shoulder  and  face.  At  last,  when  her  grief  had  worn  itself 
low  from  very  violence,  she  became  aware  of  a  body  of  knights 


96       run  SrORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THK  KING 

approaching.  At  their  head  rode  one  whom  she  readily  divined 
as  the  ^rcat  I'arl  Doorrii  himself. 

Stirrcil  hy  the  bcautilul,  sorrowing  face,  he  paused.  "What! 
is  he  dead?  "  he  called. 

"No,  no,  not  dead  I  "  she  answcreii,  in  all  haste.  "Would 
some  of  your  kind  people  fake  him  up  and  bear  him  away  out  of 
this  scorchinjj;  sun?     Most  sure  am  I  that  he  is  not  dead." 

"  Well,  dead  or  not,"  said  the  I'^.arl  heartlessly,  "  you  mar  a 
comely  face  with  idiotic  tears!  I  hey  can  avail  him  nothing! 
But,  since  the  damsel's  face  is  beautiful,  boys,  we  will  prant  the 
favor.  Take  him  up  you,  Jeems  and  Gurth,  and  bear  him  to 
the  h;ill.  If  he  lives,  wc  will  have  him  in  our  band;  if  he  dies, 
we  h.ive  got  earth  enough  to  cover  him.  And  don't  forget  the 
charger,  men,  he  is  a  noble  one." 

The  great  Farl  passed  on,  and  two  biawny  spearmen  advanced 
to  do  his  bidding,  growling  like  dogs  because  they  were  thus  forced 
to  lose  the  bones  that  might  by  chance  fall  to  them  in  the  day's 
hunt.  Roughly  they  tossed  (ieraint  upon  a  rude  litter-bier,  all  in 
the  hollow  of  his  shield,  and  bore  him  to  the  dark,  silent  hall  of 
Doorm,  where  they  casi  him  hastily  down  upon  an  oaken  settle, 
and  rushed  away  to  join  their  mates  in  the  chase.  There  through 
the  long  hours  of  the  afternoon  Fnid  sat  by  her  husband,  chafing 
his  hands,  bathing  his  brow,  and  calling  upon  him  in  endearing 
terms  to  awaken  and  speak  to  her. 

At  last  her  voice  pierced  through  the  lethargy  which  bound 
him,  and  he  became  aware  of  the  warm  tears  falling  on  his  face. 
"  Ah,  ha,"  thought  he  delightedly,  "  she  weeps  for  me."  And  he 
resolved  to  lie  still  and  test  her  to  the  uttermost,  so  he  gave  no 
sign. 

As  the  night  shades  were  falling,  the  Earl  of  Doorm  and  his 
spearmen  came  back  with  their  plunder.  Soon  the  great  hall  rang 
with  life  and  light  and  the  tumult  of  many  voices.  A  score  or 
more  of  handsome,  well-dressed  women,  joined  the  knights,  and, 
following  them,   came  servants  bearing   food  anu  wine.     Whole 


THE  STOKV  OF  GtRAIM'  AM)  I.MU 


97 


hogs  am]  quarter  beeves,  large  Hagons  of  rich  wines,  and  all  manner 
of  choice  eatables  made  the  tal'ic  groan,  and  the  bandits  fell  to 
with  an  eagerness  not  unlike  that  of  swine.  I  heir  greediness  made 
I'.nid  faint  and  sick,  and  she  crouched  farther  back  into  her  dark 
corner,  trembling  with  fear  and  horror. 

At  last  the  Karl  of  Doorrii  could  eat  no  more,  and,  raising  his 
eyes  from  his  plate,  he  ga/ed  indolently  about  the  hall  until  his 
sharp  eyes  fell  on  the  shrnking  form  of  Lnid.  In  a  moment  he 
remembered  the  scene  of  the  afternoon  and  strode  toward  her. 
"  I]at !  "  he  commanded.  '  I  never  yet  beiield  a  thing  so  pale, 
(jod's  curse,  it  makes  me  mad  to  sec  you  weep!  Good  luck  had 
your  good  man,  for  were  I  dead,  who  in  all  the  world  would  weep 
for  me?  Sweet  lady,  never  since  I  lirst  drew  breath  have  I  be- 
held a  lady  like  yourself.  If  you  had  some  color  in  your  cheeks, 
there  is  not  one  among  my  gentlewomen  tk  to  wear  your  slipper 
for  a  glove.  Listen  to  me,  girl,  you  shall  share  my  earldom  with 
me,  and  we  will  live  like  two  birds  in  one  nest.  I  will  fetch  you 
•vonderful  forage  from  the  fields;  for  1  compel  all  creatures  to  my 
will." 

Great  consternation  followed  the  Earl's  words.  His  knights 
stared  at  him  with  bulging  cheeks,  forgetting  in  their  amazement 
to  swallow  their  food.  1  he  women  made  grimaces  at  each  other, 
and  one  and  all  hated  the  fair  stranger  vho  stood  in  their  midst 
with  sorrowing  down-bent  head. 

"  I  pray  you,  sir/'  answered  Enid,  speaking  so  low  and  with 
such  difficulty  that  the  Earl  heard  not  what  she  said,  "  my  lord 
being  as  he  is,  kindly  let  me  be." 

"  .\ye,"  replied  the  Earl,  in  gracious,  self-satisfied  vanity,  well- 
pleased  at  himself  for  having  made  the  oflfer,  and  nc  er  thinking 
any  woman  would  reject  it,  "  eat  and  be  glad,  for  you  are  mine." 

"  How  can  I  be  glad,"  queried  Enid  sadly,  taking  no  notice 
of  the  last  part  of  his  speech,  "  unless  my  lord  arise  and  speak  to 
me?" 

Vexed  at  what  he  termed  her  foolishness,  the  Earl  caught  her 


98      THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

by  the  arm  and  drew  her  by  main  force  to  the  table,  where  he 
placed  food  before  her  and  sternly  commanded  her  to  eat. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Enid  pleadingly,  "  I  will  not  eat  till  yonder 
man  upon  the  bier  arises  and  eats  with  me! 

"  Drink,  then,"  answered  the  Earl  shortly^  "  Here,"  pouring 
her  a  glass  of  wine,  "  drink  this,  and  the  wine  will  change  your 
will." 

"  No,  indeed,"  sobbed  Enid,  "  1  will  not  drink  unless  my  dear 
lord  bids  me  do  it.  If  he  rises  no  more,  then  shall  I  drink  no 
wine  while  I  live." 

For  a  moment  the  Earl  paced  the  floor  angrily,  gnawing  his 
lips  in  perplexity,  then  paused  fore  Enid.  "  Girl,"  he  said  warn- 
ingly,  "  yonder  man  is  dead.  Be  careful  how  you  scorn  my 
courtesies!  A  fool  you  are  to  weep  for  one  who  dressed  you  in 
rags!  Doff  your  ragged,  faded  dress,  and  let  my  gentlewomen 
clothe  you  in  a  robe  behtting  your  beauty." 

"  No,"  persisted  Enid,  '  I  ^-ray  you  let  me  be.  In  this  poor 
gown  my  dear  lord  first  found  and  loved  me;  in  this  poor  gown 
I  first  rode  with  him  to  Court  where  the  beautiful  Queen  arrayed 
me  for  my  bridal  like  the  sun;  in  this  poor  gown  he  bade  me  clothe 
myself  yesterday  when  we  fared  forth  in  search  of  adventure,  and 
I  will  not  cast  it  away  unless  he  himself  arises  and  bids  me  do  it. 
I  can  never  love  any  one  but  him;  I  pray  you  be  gentle  and  let 

me  be  " 

"Trul,"  cried  the  Earl,  beside  himself  with  rage,  and  seeing 
how  his  "rtomen  smiled  behind  their  hands,  "  it  is  of  no  use  to  be 
gentle  with  you !  Take  that  for  my  salute !  "  giving  her  a  sting- 
ing slap  on  the  cheek  with  his  palm. 

And  Enid,  in  her  utter  fear  and  helplessness,  thinking  he  would 
net  have  dared  do  such  a  thing  had  he  not  felt  certain  Geraint 
was  dead,  gave  forth  a  sudden  oliarp,  bitter  cry,  like  a  wild  thing 

in  a  trap. 

Then  a  strange,  terrifying  thing  happened.  With  a  sudden 
bound  the  apparently  lifeless  knight  dashed  into  the  center  of  the 


THE  STORY  OF  GERAINT  AND  ENID 


99 


room,  sword  in  hand,  and  with  one  mighty  sweep  severed  the  head 
from  the  great  l-^arl's  body,  and  let  it  roll  like  a  russet-bearded 
ball  upon  the  floor.  All  the  knights  and  women  ran  shrieking  from 
the  room,  thinking  a  specter  had  arisen  in  their  midst,  and  Geraint 
and  Enid  were  left  alone. 

"Oh,  Enid,  my  wife,"  cried  Geraint,  catching  hij  wife's  hands 
in  a  close,  warm  clasp,  "  forgive  mc  I  I  have  done  you  more  wrong 
than  yonder  villain!  Forgive  me,  I  pray  you,  for  though  my  own 
ears  heard  you  say  yesterday  morning,  when  you  thought  me  sleep- 
ing, that  you  feared  you  were  no  true  wife,  I  needs  must  believe 
you  against  yourself.  I  know  not  what  you  meant,  neither  shall 
1  ask;  but  of  this  I  am  certain  no  man  ever  yet  had  a  truer  or  love- 
lier wife!     Henceforward  I  will  die  rather  than  doubt." 

And  Enid  was  silent  for  very  happiness,  but  her  starry  eyes 
flashed  back  a  world  of  answering  love  and  she  yielded  herself  to 
his  embrace.  Presently  a  sudden  terror  shot  through  her  heart. 
"O  Geraint,  fly!  Fly  before  It  is  too  late!  They  will  pluck  up 
courage  soon  to  return,  and  then  they  will  surely  slay  you.  Fly, 
my  l.sband,  our  charger  is  just  without  the  door,  forgotten  in  the 
edge  of  the  laurels;  I  saw  him  but  a  moment  since  —  my  palfrey 
is  lost." 

"  1  hen  shall  you  ride  with  me,  dear  Enid.  Come!  "  answered 
Geraint,  leading  her  forth. 

Scarcely  had  they  reached  the  open  hall  door  when  the  noble 
war-horse  came  toward  them  with  a  low  whinny.  Enid  threw 
her  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  his  white-starred  forehead 
in  glad  welcome.  Then  Geraint  quickly  mounted  and  held  out 
his  hand  to  his  wife;  grasping  it,  she  set  her  foot  upon  his  and 
so  climbed  up,  and  Geraint  leaned  over  and  warmly  kissed  her. 
So  they  rode  swiftly  away,  and  the  heart  of  Enid  rejoiced. 

Just  without  the  gateway  of  the  castle,  a  full-armed  knight 
rode  toward  them  with  all  speed  and  made  as  though  to  set  upon 
(ieraint.  And  Enid,  fearing  for  her  lord's  hurt  and  loss  of  blood, 
cried  loudly:     "  I  pray  thee,  knight,  slay  not  a  dead  man!  " 


i> 


loo    THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

"The  voice  of  Enidl"  joyfully  exclaimed  the  strange  knight. 
'  nd  lol   it  was   Edyrn,   the   son  of  Nudd,   Enid's  cousin   whom 
(jeraint  had  overthrown  at  the  joust  of  the  Sparrow-hawk.     But 
Enid  perceived  not  his  gladness,  and  was  more  fearful  than  be- 
fore, for  she  knew  not  what  his  spirit  might  be  toward  them. 

"  O  cousin,"  she  cried  pleadingly,  "  slay  him  not  who  gave  thee 
life!" 

"  My  lord  Geraint,"  said  Edyrn,  holding  out  a  welcoming  hand, 
"  I  groet  you  with  all  love.  I  took  you  for  a  bandit  knight  of 
Doorm.  Fear  not,  Enid,  that  I  should  fall  upon  him  who  has  done 
so  much  for  me;  for  once  when  I  was  up  so  high  in  pride  that  I 
was  halfway  down  the  slope  to  Hell,  by  overthrowing  me  he  threw 
me  higher.  Now,  by  his  grace,  I  am  i  knight  of  Arthur's  Round 
Table,  and  I  am  come,  a  mouth-pitv-.  if  our  good  King,  to  bid  the 
Earl  of  Doorm  disband  himself,  and  scatter  all  his  powers,  and 
come  to  the  judgment  of  the  King." 

"  Alas,  thou  art  too  late !  "  exclaimed  Geraint.  "  He  now  hears 
the  judgment  of  the  great  King  of  kings,  and  his  powers  are 
scattered.  See!  and  he  pointed  to  the  frightened  men  and  woi.:en 
staring  from  knolls  here  and  there,  and  to  others  still  fleeing  in 
the  distance.  Then  he  told  what  had  befallen,  and  how  the  Earl 
lay  dead  in  his  silent  hall. 

But  when  Edyrn  prayed  him  to  come  to  the  camp  hard  by  and 
acquaint  the  King  of  the  matter,  he  was  unwilling  and  ashamed, 
knowing  all  his  own  folly. 

"  Well,"  said  Edyrn,  at  last,  when  he  found  no  argument  would 
move  him,  "  if  you  will  not  come  to  Arthur,  he  will  come  to  you." 

"Enough!"  cried  Geraint  resignedly.     "Lead  on,   I   follow." 

And  Enid,  as  they  journeyed,  was  consumed  by  two  fears:  one 
from  the  bandits  scattered  along  the  way,  and  the  other  from 
Edyrn,  from  whom  she  shrank  with  nervous  timidity  each  time 
he  drew  near.  At  last,  perceiving  this,  he  said  reassuringly: 
"  Fair  and  dear  cousin,  you  no  longer  have  need  to  fear  me:  I 
am  changed.     Since   my  overthrow  at  my   last   foolish   Sparrow- 


THE  STOREY  OF  GERAINT  AND  ENID      loi 

hawk  joust,  when  your  good  husband  taught  me  a  much-needed 
lesson,  I  have  sought  to  do  better.  Ot  course.  It  did  not  all  come 
at  once;  but  when  1  went  up  to  the  Court  of  Arthur,  all  ashamed 
and  expecting  to  be  treated  like  a  wolf,  I  met  with  such  courtesy, 
sucii  fim.  .eserve,  and  noble  reticence,  that  I  longed  to  be  like  those 
about  me.  My  past  life  looked  black  indeed,  and  I  sought  the 
wise  counsel  of  the  holy  Dubric.  Often  I  saw  you,  Elnid,  with  our 
beautiful  Queen,  but  I  kept  myself  aloof  lest  my  presence  should 
vex  you." 

His  words  made  Enid's  heart  glad  indeed,  and,  while  she  mur- 
mured her  pleasure,  they  came  to  King  Arthur's  camp  and  the 
King  himself  advanced  to  greet  them.  For  a  moment  he  spoke 
apart  with  Edyrn,  then  gravely  smiling,  advanced  and,  lifting  Enid 
from  behind  Geraint,  set  her  upon  her  feet  and  kissed  her  brother- 
like,  then  pointed  out  a  tent  where  she  might  rest,  and  watching 
until  she  entered  therein,  turned  eagerly  to  Geraint: 

"  Ah,  Prince,  I  welcome  you  back  heartily.  When  first  you 
prayed  leave  to  go  to  your  own  land  and  defend  your  marshes, 
I  was  pricked  with  some  reproof;  for  I  felt  that  I  had  let  foul 
wrong  stagnate  and  delegated  too  much  to  other  eyes  and  hands. 
Therefore,  I  am  now  come  here  with  Edyrn  and  others  to  cleanse 
this  common  sewer  of  my  realm.  I  thank  you  for  the  justice  meted 
out  to  the  wicked  Earl;  Edyrn  has  briefly  told  me  all.  And  have 
you  looked  at  Edyrn,  and  marked  how  nobly  he  is  changed?  Great 
is  the  thing  which  he  hath  done;  for  he  hath  changed  his  old  life 
of  violence  to  one  of  sanest,  noblest,  most  valorous  obedience. 
Verily,  he  that  conquereth  his  own  spirit  is  better  than  he  that 
taketh  u  city.  To  my  mind  the  thing  which  he  hath  done  is  greater 
and  more  wonderful  than  -f  he  had  gone  out  single-handed  and 
overcome  a  band  of  pc^erful  robbers.  But  come.  Prince,  you 
are  wounded.  Get  you  to  shelter,  and  I  will  summon  mine  own 
physician  to  wait  upon  you." 

Meekly  Geraint  bowed  low  and  departed,  his  heart  filled  with 
remorse  over  his  own  late  shortcomings.     And  for  many  days  he 


I02     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

lay  weakly  upon  his  low  cot,  while  his  wound  slowly  healed.  Enid 
lingered  ever  tieside  him,  nursing  and  ministering  unto  all  his  wants 
with  tender  cheerfulness;  and  each  day  their  love  for  each  other 

grew  deeper. 

Now,  while  Geraint  lay  in  enforced  idleness,  the  King  and 
his  knights  went  up  and  down  throughout  the  Doorm  realm  and  set 
all  in  order.  The  slothful  officers  and  the  guilty  ones,  who  for 
bribe  winked  at  wrong,  were  ousted  out  of  office,  and  strong,  wise 
men  set  therein.  For  many  days  a  thousand  men  moved  here 
and  there  in  all  the  waste  lands,  clearing  out  the  uark  places,  and 
letting  in  the  light  and  the  law.  Then,  when  Geraint  was  whole 
again,  they  moved  slowly  back  to  Caerleon-on-Usk. 

Most  joyfully  did  Queen  Guinevere  welcome  her  friend  Enid, 
and  clothed  her  once  mrre  in  beautiful  apparel.  And  Geraint, 
though  not  as  proud  r  friendship  as  he  once  had  been,  rested 

well  content,  knowing  ...at  i  ;  held  all  of  his  beautiful  wife's  love, 
nor  feared  he  the  influence  of  another.  And  so  for  a  time  they 
abode  in  the  Court  of  Arthur;  then  traveled  away  to  their  home  on 
the  Severn  in  Devon.  Here  Geraint  administered  the  King's 
justice  so  wisely  and  well,  that  all  men  loved  him  and  rejoiced  in 
his  good  government  and  his  might  in  tournament  and  battle. 
Ever>-where  he  was  spoken  of  as  the  "  Great  Prince  "  and  "  Man 
of  Men,"  and  his  wife  Enid  was  loved  and  revered  no  less  than 
himself,  and  people  called  her  "  Enid  the  Good."  Noble  children 
came  to  bless  their  home,  and  nevermore  did  trouble  darken  their 
doors,  until  Geraint's  honorable  life  was  ended  In  the  great  battle 
for  the  King  against  the  heathen  of  the  North  Sea. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


THK    LILY    MAID   OF    ASTOLAT 

ONCE,  when  Arthur  was  hut  a  hoy,  he  roamed  one  day 
through  the  trackless  reahiis  of  Lyonesse,  and  stumbled 
all  unawares  upon  a  valley  which  the  people  all  about 
shunned.  This  vale  was  haunted  by  two  brothers,  one  a  king,  who 
had  t'ought  and  killed  each  other  there,  and  their  bones  lay  bleach- 
ing in  the  sun.  And  Arthur,  laboring  up  the  pass  in  the  misty 
moonshine,  stepped  suddenly  upon  the  skeleton  that  wore  the 
crown,  and  the  skull  broke  from  the  neck,  and  the  crown, 
thus  set  in  motion,  turned  on  its  rims  and  rolled  down 
the  crags  like  a  glittering  rivulet.  Arthur  scrambled  after,  and 
secured  it  at  the  risk  of  his  life.  Beautiful,  indeed,  was  the  prize, 
of  richly  wrought  gold,  all  engraved  in  fanciful  design,  and 
decorated  with  nine  diamonds,  one  in  front  and  four  on  each  side. 
"Ah!"  cried  Arthur,  in  boyish  admiration  and  elation,  setting 
the  crown  on  his  head,  "  would  that  I  were  a  king!  " 

Years  passed  on  and  Arthur's  wish  came  true;  then  he  brought 
forth  the  crown  and,  plucking  out  the  jewels,  showed  them  to 
his  knights,  saying:  "  These  jewels  which  I  chanced  upon  divinely 
are  not  mine.  They  belong  to  the  kingdom,  and  I  shall  devote 
them  to  public  use.  Henceforward  let  there  be,  once  every  year, 
a  joust  for  one  of  these:  for  so  by  nine  years'  proof  we  needs 
must  learn  which  is  our  mightiest,  and  ourselves  shall  grow  in  use 
of  arms  and  manhood,  till  we  drive  the  heathen  from  out  all  our 

land." 

And  it  came  to  pass  as  the  King  desired.  Eight  years  rolled 
away,  and  eight  jousts  had  been,  and  each  time  Lancelot  had  easily 
won  the  diamond,  intending  when  he  had  secured  all  to  give  them 
to  the  (Juccn  in  token  of  his  love  and  loyalty.     The  time  for  the 

103 


104    THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  RING 

ninth  and  last  tournament  was  at  hand,  and  the  prize  was  to  be  the 
central  diamond,  the  largest  and  most  beautiful  of  them  all.  But 
it  so  chanced  that  Queen  Guinevere  was  just  recovering  from  an 
illness,  and  could  not  be  present. 

"  Alas,"  mourned  the  King  ri  fretfully,  "I  wish  the  time  were 
not  now;  for  you  will  miss  the  great  deeds  of  Lancelot  and  his 
powers  in  the  lists, —  a  sight  you  love  to  look  on." 

The  Queen  answered  never  a  word,  but  lifted  her  eyes 
languidly  to  Lancelot,  where  he  stood  beside  the  King,  and  Lance- 
lot, wh(jse  love  for  her  was  ever  in  conflict  with  his  loyally  and 
love  for  the  King,  thought  within  himself:  "Alas,  she  needs 
me  here.  Is  not  my  love  greater  than  jewels?"  So,  though  it 
grieved  him  sorely  to  give  up  hope  of  winning  the  last  diamond, 
he  turned  to  the  King  ^nd  observed  sadly:  "Ah,  King,  I  am 
afraid  the  jewel  is  lost  to  me;  for  my  old  wound  that  Sir  Mador 
gave  me  troubles  me  of  late,  and  1  am  scarce  fit  for  the  saddle." 

P'or  a  moment  a  troubled  doubt  crossed  the  good  King's  heart, 
and  he  glanced  sharply  first  at  his  wife,  then  at  his  trusted  knight, 
Lancelot,  but  he  turned  '•way  without  a  word.  Scarcely  had  he 
closed  the  door,  when  the  Queen  burst  out  peevishly:  "  To  blame, 
my  lord  Lancelot,  much  to  blame!  Why  do  you  not  go  to  the 
jousts?  Half  of  the  knights  now  are  our  enemies,  and  they  will 
accuse  us  of  shamefully  staying  at  ome  and  betraying  •^he  good 
King's  trust." 

And  Lancelot,  vexed  that  he  had  lied  to  the  King  all  to  no 
purpose,  replied  hastily:  "My  Queen,  you  are  overlate  in  your 
wisdom;  you  were  not  so  wise  when  first  you  loved  me.  As  for 
the  gossips,  let  them  say  what  they  will;  but,  Indeed,  my  loyal  wor- 
ship is  allowed  by  all,  and  no  offense  is  thought.  But  is  there 
more?  Hath  the  King  spoken,  or  does  my  loving  service  weary 
you?" 

"The  faultless  King,  my  lord  Arthur!"  laughed  Guinevere 
scornfully,  "  he  cares  not  for  me.  He  is  ;0  wrapped  up  in  his 
foolish  fancy  of  the   Round  Table,  and  swearing  men  to  impos- 


THE  LILY  MAID  Ol-   ASTOLAT 


los 


sible  vows,  ll'at  he  never  thinks  of  me.  Reproached  me?  In- 
deed, no.  lie  has  never  had  a  glimpse  of  mine  untruth;  but  to- 
day I  thought  there  gleamed  a  vague  suspicion  in  his  eyes.  The 
pink  of  perfection  is  he, —  but  who  can  gaze  on  the  sun  in  heaven? 
.My  friend,  to  me  he  is  all  fault  who  hath  no  fault  at  all!  I  am 
yours,  not  Arthur's,  as  you  know,  save  by  the  bond,  and  therefore 
must  you  hear  niy  words:  go  you  to  the  jousts." 

"  But,"  queried  Lancelot,  "  how  can  I  show  myself  at  the  tour- 
nament after  my  lying  pretext  of  a  wound?  The  King  himself 
Is  utter  truth,  and  honors  his  own  word  as  if  it  were  his  God's." 

"  Yea,"  sneered  the  Queen,  "  a  moral  child  without  the  craft 
to  rule,  else  had  he  not  lost  me.  But  listen,  if  I  must  find  you  wit: 
disguise  yourself  and  go  unknown  pretending  that,  as  men  have 
said  knights  fall  before  the  glamor  of  your  name  rather  than 
the  prowess  of  your  sword,  you  sought  in  this  way  to  test  your 
might.  This  will  please  the  King,  for  no  keener  hunter  after 
glory  lives  than  himself.     Go,  and  win  I  " 

So  Lancelot  perforce  yielded  to  the  Queen's  wishes,  and  in  a 
sorry  temper  got  himself  to  horse,  and  set  out  by  unfrequented 
ways  for  the  tourney  field.  As  he  journeyed  among  the  solitary 
downs,  full  often  lost  in  fancy,  it  chanced  that  he  missed  his  way, 
and  toward?  evening  drew  near  to  the  castle  of  Astolat,  which 
shown  from  afar  in  the  western  sun.  Riding  up  to  the  marble 
gateway,  he  blew  a  shrill  blast  upon  the  horn  which  hung  with- 
out, and  immediately  an  old  gray-headed  man,  dumb  as  an  oyster, 
appeared  and  motioned  him  to  enter.  Right  willingly  Lancelot 
obeyed,  marveling  much  at  the  speechless  man,  who  showed  him 
to  a  little  chamber  in  the  turret  and  helped  him  to  disarm.  And 
straightway  Lancelot  came  forth,  and  met  the  lord  of  the  castle 
and  his  two  stalwart  sons.  Sir  Torre  and  Sir  Lavaine,  while  close 
behind  came  Elaine,  the  daughter,  who  for  her  fairness  was  called 
by  the  people  "  The  Lily  Maid  of  Astolat."  There  was  no  mother 
of  the  house  to  greet  him,  for  God  had  called  her. 

"  Whence  comest  thou,  my  guest?"  cried  the  Lord  of  Astolat, 


io6    nil-:  sroRv  of  idylls  of  thk  klno 


cxtciuJiiij^  his  liarui  in  hearty  j^rcctinj;.  "  Ami  what  may  be  thy 
name  ?  I  ^,'ucss  from  thy  stately  presence  that  thou  behingest  to 
the  great  Court  ot  Arthur  and  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table." 

"  Aye,"  answered  Lancelot,  "  thou  hast  guessed  truly.  But  ask 
not  my  name  now,  for  I  desire  to  ride  unknown  to  the  jousts,  and 
may  not  give  my  reasons.  /\Iso  I  would  ask  another  favo-  of 
thee:  unwittingly  I  brought  my  shield  with  me,  and  I  dare  not 
carry  it  to  the  tourney,  for  it  is  widely  known;  I  pray  thee,  tlien, 
lend  mc  another  shield,  that  my  disguise  may  be  complete,  and 
keep  this  one  till  I  come  again  " 

"  Gladly  will  I  do  so,"  answered  the  liost.  "  ^  ou  can  have  my 
son  Torre's.  He  was  lately  wounded  and  can  not  ride  to  the 
tilt." 

"  Yea,"  said  Sir  lorre  bluntly,  "  since  I  cannot  use  it,  you  may 
have  it." 

'■  Fie,  Sir  Churl,"  laughed  the  father,  "  is  that  an  answer  for 
a  noble  knight?  lorgive  him,  my  guest.  But  here  is  La\aine," 
turning  playfully  to  his  younger  son,  "  he  is  going  to  the  Diamond 
Jousts,  and  forsooth  he  is  so  strc  ng  and  brave  that  he  will  certainly 
do  nothing  less  than  win,  in  an  hour's  time,  and  has  promised  to 
bring  back  the  diamond  and  set  it  in  his  sister's  golden  hair." 

"  Nay,  good  father,"  cried  Lavaine,  crimsoning  with  embar- 
rassment, "  shame  me  not  before  this  knight.  Thou  knowcst  it 
was  all  a  jest!  Torre  was  vexed  because  he  could  not  go,  and 
my  sister  here  told  us  how  she  dreamed  that  some  one  brought  her 
the  diamond,  but  that  she  let  it  slip  through  her  hand  and  lost  it 
in  the  stream.  And  so.  Sir  Knight,  I  said  ;/  I  won  the  prize,  then 
she  must  keep  it  bcttei.  So  y  see  it  was  nothing  but  a  joke  I 
But,  dear  father,  if  he  will  have  my  company,  I  sliould  like  very 
much  to  ride  to  the  jousts  with  this  good  knight.  Win,  of  course, 
I  shall  not,  but  yet  I  will  do  my  best." 

"Indeed,"  said  Lancelot  hear'  ly,  "I  shoulil  be  glad  to  have 
your  company  and  gultlance  over  these  iiioots  wht^reon  I  all  but 
lost  myself.      Also  should  I  like  to  see  vou  win  the  diamond  and 


THE  LILY  .\L\1D  OF  ASTOLAT 


107 


bring  it  home  to  your  lair  sister.      It  is  a  wondrous  jewel  I  hear." 

"  Aye,"  muttered  Sir  Torre  bitterly,  "  a  fair,  large  diamond, 
more  fit  for  queen  than  for  lily-maid." 

"Nay,  not  so,"  answered  Lancelot  gallantly.  "  If  the  proverb, 
'what  is  fair  be  but  for  the  fair,'  is  true,  as  I  think  it  is,  then 
this  fair  maiden  might  wear  as  fai.  a  jewel  as  there  is  on  earth." 

And  Elaine,  won  by  his  mellow  voice,  thought  to  herself, 
"  Surely  this  is  the  most  noble  knight  In  Arthur's  Hall,"  and  there 
stole  into  her  heart  a  love  for  him  which  later  worked  her  tloom. 
Yet  there  was  little  about  this  knightly  courtier  to  win  a  maiden's 
fancy,  saving  his  kingly  bearing,  gracious  courtesy,  and  pleasinj^ 
converse.  Twice  her  age  was  he,  and  his  noble  face  was  bronzed 
and  worn  with  care,  and  scarred  with  the  conlll>.t  between  his  love 
for  Guinevere  and  his  loyalty  to  Arthur,  his  friend  and  King.  But 
still  he  was  good  to  look  upon,  the  darling  of  the  Court,  and  past- 
master  of  the  art  of  conversation,  and  he  channed  them  all,  as 
they  sat  about  the  dinner  board  that  evening,  with  his  talk  of  Court 
and  camp  and  adventures  here  and  there.  I  lowever,  when  Guin- 
evere's name  was  mentioned,  he  deftly  switched  the  tide  of  talk, 
and  inquired  concerning  the  dumb  man  who  had  admitted  him. 

"  The  heathen  reft  him  of  his  tongue  ten  years  ago,"  answered 
the  host,  "  when  he  learned  of  their  fierce  design  against  my  house, 
and  warned  me  of  It.  With  my  sons  and  little  daughter  I  fled 
to  the  woods  and  had  refuge  in  a  boatman's  hut  by  the  river  for 
many  days,  till  our  good  King  drove  the  pagan  out  from  Badon 
hill." 

"  O,  Sir  Knight,"  cried  Lavalne  eagerly,  interrupting  his  father's 
tale  of  woe,  "  tell  us  of  Arthur's  famous  wars,  for  we  live  apart 
and  know  so  little." 

Willingly  Sir  Lancelot  complied,  for  he  loved  to  tell  of  Arthur's 
prowess  in  battle,  and  his  hearers  sat  spell-bound  before  his  tales 
of  knightly  daring.  In  glowing  words  he  told  of  the  four  loud 
battles  by  the  shore  of  Duglas;  of  the  terrible  war  that  thundered 
in   and   out   of   the   gloomy   skirts   of  the   Celidon    forest;   of   the 


io8     nil-:  STORY  OF  lUVLI.S  OF  MI!:   KING 


struggle  by  Castle  Cjurnion,  wlicrc  t 


t.e  gl 


orioiis 


K^n 


J  '.vorc  on 


MS 


cuirass 


the    fan.ous    Russian    Fnicrald    (first    given 


by    1 


I  Lite    to 


Tiberius  C^sar),  having  the  head  of  Christ  engraved  upon  it, 
and  how  the  sun  splintered  in  silver  rays,  lightening  as  he  breathed, 
until  the  Saxons  were  sore  if  raid;  of  the  conquest  at  Cacrleon, 
where  the  strong  neighings  of  the  wild,  white  horse  set  every  gilded 
nd  of  the  last  great  battle  on  the  mount  of 


parapet  s 


hudd 


ering;  a 


charged 


the  head  of  his  Round    Tabh 


icau  oi  nis  i\ouna  i  ahle 
and  broke  the  heathen.  "  Oh,"  he  cried  in  conclusion,  "  the  King 
is  mighty  on  the  battle-field!  There  lives  no  greater  leader!  At 
home  he  sermeth  mild  and  careth  not  at  all  for  our  jousts,  laugh- 
ing when  jne  of  his  knights  overthrows  him  easily  according  him 
the  better  man,  but,  when  he  faces  the  heathen  in  battle  array, 
the  fire  of  (lod  descends  upon  him.  He  is  transfigured  and  his 
face  is  wonderful  to  behold.     There  is  no  man  like  our  glorious 

King!" 

"Saving  your  own  great  self!"  thought  Elaine  worshipfully, 
following  the  light  and  shade  of  his  talk  with  ever  deepening  in- 
terest and  noting  the  play  of  expression  on  his  speaking  counte- 
nance. And,  perceiving  an  under  current  of  sadness  through  all, 
she  tried  by  various  little  attentions  to  bring  him  cheer,  and  suc- 
ceeded each  time  in  calling  up  such  a  "  sudden-beaming  tenderness 
of  manners  and  nature  "  that,  all  unused  to  men  and  courtier  ways, 
she  thought  the  brightness  beamed  for  her  alone.  All  night  long 
the  dark,  splendid  face  lived  before  her,  speaking  in  silence  of 
noble  things,  and  it  held  her  from  sleep.  At  dawn  she  arose  and 
went  down  into  the  courtyard,  cheating  herself  with  the  belief 
that    she    went    but    to    bid    Godspeed    to    her    young    brother, 

Lavaine. 

Now  it  so  chanced  that  as  she  stole  down  the  long  tower  stairs, 
Lavaine  passed  within  to  get  Torre's  shield  for  Lancelot,  and  so 
the  lily-maid  found  the  knight  standing  alone  by  his  proud  horse, 
smoothing  its  glossy  shoulder,  and  humming  to  himself.  Half- 
envious  of  the  noble  horse,  Elaine  drew  nearer  and  stood  gazing 


TlIK  Lll.V  MAID  OF  ASTOLA  1' 


109 


with  all  luT  soul.  And  I.inicclot,  turniiif^  aroutni,  stood  more 
.itna/cd  than  il  seven  men  had  suiiilcniy  set  upon  hlrii,  for  in  the 
dewy  li^ht  the  iriaiden  seemed  more  beautiful  than  the  angels; 
yet  a  sort  of  fear  stirred  him  as  he  saw  that  she  ^;a/,cd  upon  his 
face  as  though  it  were  a  j^od's.  He  j^rectcd  her  silently,  and 
suddenly  there  flashed  over  her  a  wild  desire  that  he  should  wear 
her  fasor  at  the  tilt.  For  it  was  the  custom  in  those  days  for 
knights  to  wear  in  their  helms  at  tournaments  some  glove  or  scarf 
(il  the  lady  whom  they  favored  most.  Timidly,  and  with  madly 
beating  heart,  she  made  the  request. 

And  Lancelot  scarce  knew  how  to  answer  her.  Before  his  guilty 
soul  floated  the  vision  of  Queen  Guinevere's  matchless  beauty,  and 
the  thing  Flalne  asked  seemed  impossible.  "  Nay,  fair  lady,"  he 
said  slowly,  turning  away  to  avoid  her  disappointment.  "  It  has 
never  been  my  custom  to  wear  a  lady's  favor  at  the  hsts,  therefore 
I  cannot  do  it  now." 

"  But,"  answered  Elaine  eagerly,  seeking  an  excuse  for  him  with 
ready  woman's  tact,  "  if  you  now  wear  my  favor  it  will  then  aid 
the  more  in  keeping  your  disguise." 

"  1  rue,  my  child,"  agreed  Lancelot,  seeing  much  wisdom  in  her 
counsel.     "  Well,  I  will  wear  it.      F'etch  it  out  to  me." 

Delighted  to  obey,  Elaine  skipped  happily  to  her  boudoir,  re- 
turning straightway  with  a  red  velvet  sleeve,  beautifully  em- 
broidered with  shining  pearls,  and  bound  it  upon  his  helmet.  And 
Lancelot  submitted  smilingly,  saying:  "Never  yet  have  I  done 
so  much  for  any  maiden  living." 

The  words  filled  Elaine's  heart  with  delight  and  dyed  her  beau- 
tiful face  a  rich  carmine,  but  the  color  Hed  quickly,  leaving  her 
paler  than  before,  as  Lavaine  appeared  with  his  brother's  shield, 
and  made  ready  to  depart. 

"  Do  me  the  grace,  my  child,  to  keep  my  shield  till  I  return," 
said  Lancelot,  handing  to  Elaine  his  famous  shield,  whereon 
gleamed  the  azure  lions  in  shining,  jeweled  splendor,  and  sub- 
stituting Torre's  plain,  and  as  yet  unblazoned  one. 


no      rm.  SIORV  oj"  lUVl.l.S  Ol     llll.  KL\(i 

'•   I  he  Kr.uf  Is  tninc,  Sir  Knight."  rcpru'il  I'l.iinc,  ;•  ■cc|>tlll^^  the 

char^jc   ^l.uliy. 

'Ihi-n  l.avalnc  kissed  the  roses  h.uk  into  his  sister's  cheeks,  "  h-si 
people  think  her  re. lis  a  lilv-inaul."  I  lu-  Kin^;'s  kni^jht  kissed 
his  haiul  to  her  in  true  courtier  fashion,  and  tlie  two  rode  away. 
I'laine  watching  thern  from  the  castle  gateway  as  far  as  she  -niyht 


see. 

And  so  it  ranie   to  pass   that  — 

Klainr   the   fair,   llaiiic  t!ic   lnvablc, 
Klainc   the   liU-iuaiil  nt   Astiilat, 
High  in  hiT  elianiluT  up  a  toucr  to  tlir  i;«st, 
Guaulcd  the  sacred  shiel.i  of  Lancelot. 

Elaine  passed  her  days  in  sweet  dreaminfj;  and  vain  ima^ininKS. 
She  placed  the  shield  where  the  sun's  first  rays  mi^ht  strike  the 
jeweled  lions,  and  awaken  her  with  their  fleams  from  her  dreams 
of  their  great  owner.  'Ihcn,  as  the  davs  pa-sed.  she  he^an  to  fear 
the  shieKl  niight  rust,  and  she  furnished  for  it  \  beautiful  case, 
all  embroidered  with  silk  after  the  fashion  of  the  shield  itself,  and 
added  from  her  needle-woman's  skill  a  border  of  branch  and 
flower,    and    a   yeliow-throaled   nestling  a    nest.      And,    as   she 

worked,  she  museii  over  each  cut   and  dint  in  the  scariid  sh:e!d 
and  fancied  what  had  taken  place  in  tield  and  tournament. 

Meantime  the  two  knights  fared  forward  towarti  the  lists,  and, 
as  they  neared  their  destination,  the  elder  said  to  the  younger: 
"  Would  you  know  my  name?  Hear  it  then,  but  tell  it  not.  'Tis 
Lancelot  of  the  Lake." 

"Is  it,  truly?"  gasped  the  lad,  filled  with  hero-worshiping 
reverence,  "'''he  great  Lancelot!  At  last,  I  have  my  wish! 
Our  country's  greatest  knight!  Now,  if  I  might  see  the  great 
Arthur    Pendragon,    Britain's    King   of   kings,    then    might    I    die 

happy !  " 

They  were  already  nearing  the  meadow^  where  the  jousts  were 
to  be  held,  so  Lancelot  made  no  reply  further  than  to  wave  his 


THi:  LILV   MAil)  OF  ASiOLAl 


III 


hand  toward  the  hsts,  and  watch  the  joy  and  adniii  ion  dawn  on 
the  yoiinK  knij^ht'i  face.  It  was  indeed  a  (tofucouj  sij;ht.  1  he 
jrrcat  half-round  ^-I'lcy  of  scats,  filled  with  richly  ilressed  spec- 
tators, "  lay  like  a  rainhow  fallen  upon  the  grass."  And  the  lists 
were  rapidly  filling  with  knights,  magnificent  in  their  battle  array. 
I.avainc'"  eys  wamlfed  eagerly  over  the  throng,  until  they  icsted 
upon  the  high  throne,  where  the  great  King  sat,  robed  in  red 
samite.  All  about  the  royal  seat  shone  and  writhed  carved,  golden 
dragons,  the  royal  crest  of  the  great  house  of  Pendragon.  .\ 
golden  dragon  clung  to  the  King's  crown  and  writhed  down  his 
long,  rich  robe.  Iwo  others  formed  the  arms  of  the  chair  of 
s'ate.  And  just  above  the  King's  head,  in  the  ornaments  of  the 
canopy,  was  a  golden  flower,  in  the  center  of  which  shone  the 
great  diamond  prize  of  the  day. 

Lancelot,  observing  how  the  lad's  eyes  were  riveted  on  the 
King,  spoke  solemnly,  "just  now  you  called  me  great,  perhaps  be- 
cause I  have  some  skill  in  war  and  tourney,  but,  no  doubt,  many 
a  youth  now  in  the  ascendant  will  attain  to  all  I  have  and  sur- 
pass me.  (jreatness  is  not  in  me,  unless  it  be  in  the  knowledge  that 
I  have  it  not.  Yonder  is  the  great  man  —  our  peerless,  white 
King!" 

Lavaine  stared  at  him  in  wonder,  not  half-comprehending  what 
was  meant,  but  just  then  the  bugles  blew  and  both  sides  began  to 
make  ready  for  the  jousts.  The  Knights  of  the  Round  Table 
formed  the  challenging  party,  and  those  who  came  to  tilt  against 
them  were  kings,  princes,  barons,  and  knights  from  far  and  near. 
And  Lavaine  was  for  taking  sides  at  once  and  preparing  for  the 
fray,  but  Lancelot  signaled  to  him  and  drew  av.'ay  out  of  the  line 
of  combat,  and  the  boy  followed  his  leader,  for  to  his  hero-wor- 
shiping heart  Lancelot's  slightest  will  was  law. 

The  knights  quickly  formed  into  two  long  lines  at  opposite  ends 
of  the  field.  "  With  helmets  crested  with  their  ladies'  favors  or 
with  nodding  plumes,  and  long  lances  bedecked  with  pennons  that 
danced  to  th  ■    iit  of  the  breeze,  the  great  company  of  knights 


1,2  THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 
awaited  the  signal  for  the  onset.  And  no  less  impatient  than  their 
riders,  the  splendid  war-horses  quivered  for  the  fray.  Tnen 
suddenly  the  heralds  blew  a  mighty  blast  on  their  trumpets;  the 
knights  struck  spur;  and  riders  and  steeds,  alike  wild  with  the  joy 
of  the  conflict,  were  hurled  together  in  the  center  of  the  lists.  The 
hard  earth  trembled  with  the  shock,  and  the  clear  air  of  mornmg 
reverberated  with  the  thunder  of  arms." 

Lancelot  withheld  his  hand  for  a  time,  until  he  could  see  which 
was  the  weaker  side,  then  he  hurled  himself  into  the  midst  of  the 
press  against  the  stronger,  which  was  his  own  order  of  the  Round 
Table.      In  a  moment  it  became  evident  that  the  knight  with  the 
red    sleeve    favor    was    a    great    acquisition    to    the    losing    side. 
Spurred  on  by  cheers  and  shouts,  he  was  soon  at  the  head  of  the 
line  —  duke,  carl,  baron,  and  knight  gave  way  before  him,  and  it 
began  to  look  as  though  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table  would 
be   overcome.     Great   excitement   prevailed   on    every    hand;^  the 
spectators  rose  in  their  seats  in  astonished  admiration;  the  knights 
in  the  lists  marveled  much  and  questioned  one  another :     "  Who 
is  this  strange  knight  of  the  red  sleeve  that  tilts  with  a  daring  al- 
most equal  to  that  of  the  great  Lancelot  himself?"     And  even 
King  Arthur  was  fired  at  last  by  the  wonderful  deeds  of  th-  stranger, 
and  cheered  him  lustily. 

Presently  there  arose  in  the  hearts  of  the  Round  Table  knights 
a  strong  fc  Tmg  of  jealousy  that  there  should  live  a  knight  who 
could  outdo  lie  chivalrous  deeds  of  their  own  beloved  chief.  And 
the  cousins  of  Lancelot  — strong,  mighty  men  of  great  prowess  in 
battle  —  counseled  together,  and  finally  bore  down  upon  the 
stranger  in  a  body,  determined  to  overthrow  him,  and  thus  keep 
their  kinsman  peerless  still.  Like  a  great  wave  of  the  North  Sea 
they  came  on,  seeking  by  weight  of  men  and  horses  to  overwhelm 
Lancelot  and  the  brave  knight  fighting  valiantly  at  his  right  hand, 
who  was  none  other  than  the  youth,  Lavaine.  One,  with  lance 
aimed   low,    lamed   Lancelot's    noble   horse;    and   another   struck 


THE  LILY  MAID  OF  ASTOLAT 


H3 


sharply  with  his  speir  and  pierced  through  shield  and  mail,  leav- 
ing the  lance  head  buried  in  Sir  Lancelot's  side. 

Then  Lavaine,  seeing  the  great  danger  of  his  beloved  hero, 
did  a  most  noble  deed.  With  a  v.ell-aimed  blow  he  overthrew  a 
mighty  warrior,  took  his  horse,  and  brought  it  to  where  Sir  Lancr- 
lot  lay.  And  Lancelot,  sweating  with  agony  from  the  great  wound 
in  his  side,  got  to  the  horse  with  Lavaine's  aid,  minded  to  endure 
as  long  as  he  might.  With  a  great  shout  the  knights  of  his  party 
rallied  round  him;  and  stirred  to  fresh  zeal  by  his  courage,  they 
smote  with  might  and  main.  Ever  Lancelot  led  thLm  on  until 
he  had  driven  his  kinsmen  and  all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table 
back  to  the  very  extremity  of  the  lists.  Then  came  a  wild  blast 
of  the  trumpets,  and  the  Heralds  proclaimed  that  the  victory  be- 
longed to  the  knight  of  the  red  sleeve,  and  bade  him  advance  and 
get  the  diamond. 

But  Lancelot  sat  as  if  suddenly  bereft  of  motion,  and  his  party, 
seeing  this,  set  up  a  deafening  cheer  and  cried  with  one  voice: 
"Advance,  man,  and  get  the  prize!     'Tis  well  won." 

"  The  prize!  "  gasped  Lancelot,  suddenly  swaying  in  the  saddle, 
"No  diamond  prize  for  mel  My  prize  is  death!  For  God's 
love  give  me  air!  " 

Struck  dumb  with  consternation  were  all  the  knights  about  him, 
and  Lancelot  took  swift  advantage  of  their  plight  and  stole  away 
from  the  field.  And  no  one  marked  where  he  went,  save  the  faith- 
ful Lavaine,  who  spurred  his  horse  forward  and  kept  him  silent 
company  till  they  came  to  a  hermit's  cave  in  a  poplar  grove  some 
miles  away.  Then  Lancelot  could  keep  his  saddle  no  longer,  and 
slid  to  the  earth,  crying  to  Lavaine,  "  Draw  out  the  lance  h.  ..'   ' 

Lavaine  obeyed,  though  with  sore  misgiving,   fearing  ti. 
lord  might  die  in  the  drawing  of  it;  and  Lancelot  gave  a  great 
shriek  and  a  ghastly  groan  and  fainted  dead  away.     The  hermit 
heard  the  cry  of  suffering  and  came  hurrying  forth,  and  it  chanced 
that  he  was  once  a  knight  and  knew  Lancelot  well;  so  he  caught 


■III 


114     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

him  up  and  bore  him  in,  and  tended  him  with  great  skill.  But 
for  many  weary  weeks  Lancelot  lay  hidden  from  tl  world  by  the 
tall  poplars  and  the  ever-tremulous  aspen  trees,  and  Lavame  and 
the  good  hermit  waited  upon  him  faithfully,  being  m  daily  doubt 
as  to  whether  he  would  live  or  die. 

Now  on  that  day  when  Lancelot  and  his  young  friend  led  the 
lists,  there  was  great  wonder  and  pity  among  the  people  assembled. 
And  the  knights  whom  he  had  led  so  victoriously  went  to  the  great 
Kin<T  saying:  "  Sire,  our  knight,  through  whom  we  won  the  day, 
hath  gone  away  sorely  wounded,  and  hath  left  his  prize  untaken, 
crying  that  his  prize  is  death." 

"  Heaven  hinder  that  so  great  a  knight  as  we  have  seen  to-day 
should  pass  uncared  for,"  said  the  King.  "  He  is  a  mighty  war- 
rior. Indeed,  he  seemed  to  me  another  Lancelot!  Yea,  twenty 
times  I  thought  he  was  Lancelot,  and  I  am  yet  in  doubt." 

And  the  King  pondered  for  a  moment,  becoming  more  and  more 
convinced  that  the  disguised  knight  was  Lancelot,  in  spite  of  every 
proof  to  the  contrary.  So  he  called  Gawain,  his  nephew,  son  of 
Lot  and  Bellicent  and  brother  to  Gareth,  and  bade  him  take  the 
diamond  and  ride  forth  at  once,  day  and  night,  until  he  found  the 
knight  who  had  so  dearly  won  it,  and  give  it  to  him,  charging 
Gawain  also  to  return  speedily  to  the  Court  bringing  news  as  to 
the  stranger's  identity  and  how  he  fared. 

Now  Gawain  was  mighty  and  grave,  and  known  among  his  com- 
rades  as  "  Gawain,  the  Courteous,"  because  of  his  courtly  man- 
ners- but  he  did  not  reverence  his  word  as  the  King  would  have 
all  men  do,  and  often  carried  a  treacherous  heart.  He  accepted 
the  quest  with  a  smiling  face  but  fared  forth  in  wrath;  for  the 
feasting  and  merry-making  were  yet  to  come,  and  he  oved  the 
banquet  and  the  company  of  the  ladies  better  than  he  loved  the 
service  of  the  King.  However,  seeing  that  the  knight  was  so 
sorely  wounded,  he  hoped  to  find  him  in  the  nearby  community,  and 
so  rode  at  a  gallop,  searching  all  the  countryside,  and  stopping 
everywhere  save  at  the  neatly  hidden  hermit's  cave.     .\t  length. 


THE  LILY  AL-VID  OF  ASTOLA'I' 


"5 


as  he  traveled  in  an  ev       .iden'mg  circle,  he  came  to  the  gates  of 
Astolat,  and  Elaine  hailed  him  joyfully: 

"Ho,  Sir  Knight!  What  news  from  Camelot?  What  of  the 
knight  of  the  red  sleeve?" 

"  He  won,"  answered  Gawain,  half  forgetting  his  courtly  man- 
ners In  his  wonderment  at  the  maiden's  radiant  beauty,  "  but  he 
parted  from  the  jousts  hurt  in  the  side." 

Whereat  P]laine  caught  her  breaih,  and  smote  her  hand  on  her 
own  side  as  though  she  felt  the  lance  wound  therein,  and  well- 
nigh  fainted.  Then  came  the  Lord  of  Astolat,  and  to  him  Gawain 
told  his  quest,  and  how  he  had  searched  the  countryside  at  random, 
anu  was  wearied  of  it  all. 

"Ayel"  cried  the  hospitable  lord  warmly.  "Ride  no  more 
at  random,  noble  Prince!  Abide  with  us;  here  was  the  knight,  and 
here  he  left  a  shield,  which  he  will  surely  send  or  come  for. 
Furthermore,  our  son  is  with  him,  and  we  shall  surely  have  news 
soon." 

And  Gawain,  carelessly  forgetful  of  the  King's  command,  and 
more  than  willing  to  tarry  for  a  time  in  a  home  containing  so  per- 
fect a  maiden,  consented  with  an  exaggeration  even  of  his  usual 
courtesy,  saying  to  himself:  "  '^ell,  if  I  bide,  lo !  this  wild  flower 
for  me!  "  So  for  many  days  he  tarried,  and  set  himself  to  play 
upon  her  with  free  flashes  of  courfly  wit,  songs,  sighs,  slow  smiles, 
and  golden  eloquence.  But  the  fair,  llly-mald,  Elaine,  had  no 
heart  for  his  mock  courtship,  and  soon  grew  very  weary  of  him. 

"O  Prince!"  she  cried.  "Loyal  nephew  of  our  noble  King, 
why  ask  you  not  to  see  the  shield  which  the  knight  left,  and  in  this 
wise  learn  his  name?  W^hy  do  you  slight  your  King  and  lose  the 
quest  he  sent  you  on?  Why  be  no  surer  than  our  falcon,  who, 
yesterday  when  we  slipped  him  at  the  horn,  lost  It  and  we.nt  to  all 
the  winds?  " 

"  By  my  head,"  answered  Gawain,  "  I  lose  It,  as  wc  lose  the 
lark  in  heaven,  O  damsel,  In  the  light  of  your  blue  eyes!  But, 
if  you  will,  let  me  see  the  shield." 


u6    THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLL  OF  THE  KING 

And  when  tw  the  azure  lions,  crowned  with  goKl,  he  smote 

his  thigh,  a,,,  crad  mockingly:  "Right  was  the  Kmg!  Our 
Lancelot!  that  true  man!  " 

"  And  right  was  I."  answered  the  lily-maid  merrily,  not  noticing 
his  insincerity,  "  I,  who  dre.med  my  knight  the  great,  st  kmght  of 

all" 

■"  .\nd  is  Lancelot  your  knight?"  queried  Sir  Gawain,  still  m 
a  mocking  tone.     "  Have  I,  then,  wasted  my  time?     Do  you  love 

him,  fair  maiden?" 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  Elaine  simply.  "  Perhaps  I  know  not 
vhat  love  is,  for  my  brothers  arc  the  only  young  men  I  have 
known;  but  if  I  love  not  him,  there  is  no  other  man  that  I  can  ever 

love."  ,^  ,         u- 

"  Yea    by  God's  death,"   said  Gawain,   "  I  see  you  love  him 
well,  but  doubt  such  if  you  would  love  him  still  if  you  knew  what 
others  know,  or  her  whom  they  say  he  loves.     But  stay!     One 
golden  minute's  grace !     He  wore  your  favor  at  the  tourney.     Can 
he  have  changed  his  worship?     It  well  may  be.     'Tis  like  our /r.e 
man  to  change  like  a  leaf  at  last!     'Tis  no  concern  of  mine      Far 
be  it  from  me  to  cross  our  mighty  Lancelot  in  his  love!     And  so, 
fair  lily-maid,  if,  as  I  doubt  not,  you  know  his  ;..ding-place,_suffer 
me  to  leave  the  diamond  with  you.     Here!     If  you  love    it  will 
be  sweet  to  give  it;  and,  if  he  love.  It  will  be  sweet  to  have  it 
from  your  hand;  and  whether  he   love  or  not,   a  diamond  «  a 
diamond      Fare  you  well  a  thousand  times!     A  thousand  times 
farewell!     Yet,  if  he  love,  and  his  love  holds  true,  we  two  may 
meet  at  Court  hereafter."  ,        ,  „  , 

.\nd  so  Gawain  called  for  his  horse  and  departed  at  full  speed, 
caroling  lightly  as  he  went,  well-pleased  to  be  rid  of  the  unwelcome 

''"it  the  meantime.  King  Arthur  had  cut  short  the  festivities  at 
the  jousts  and  returned  home,  filled  with  misgivings  over  the  fate 
of  his  friend.  If  it  were  Lancelot,  and  minded  to  find  out  for  a 


THE  LILY  MAID  OF  ASIOLAT 


117 


certainty.     Almost  the  first  question  he  asked  of  the  Queen  was, 
"Where  is  Lancelot?" 

"Was   he    not   with    you?"    cried    the   Queen    in    amazement. 
"  Did  he  not  win  the  prize?  " 

"Nay,"   answered  Arthur,   "but  ore  like   him,— a  great    md 
mighty  knight,  even  greater  than  Lancelot." 

"Ah,  but  that  was  he!"  exclaimed  the  Queen  eagerly.  "No 
sooner  had  you  parted  from  us,  my  King,  than  Lancelot  told  me 
ot  a  common  talk  that  men  went  down  before  his  spear  at  a  touch 
knowing  he  was  Lancelot;  he  said  that  his  great  name  conquered, 
and  therefore  would  he  hide  his  name  from  all  men,  even  the  King, 
and  to  this  end  he  made  the  pretext  of  a  hindering  wound,  that 
he  might  joust  unknown  of  all,  and  learn  if  his  old  prowess  were 
in  aught  decayed,  saying  also,  '  Our  true,  Arthur,  when  he  learns, 
will  well  allow  my  pretext,  as  a  gain  of  purer  glory.'  " 

"  Aye!  "  replied  the  King  sorrowfully,  "but  far  lovelier  in  our 
Lancelot  had  it  been,  in  lieu  of  idly  dallying  with  the  truth,  to  have 
trusted  me  as  he  hath  trusted  thee.  Surely  his  King  and  most 
familiar  friend  might  well  have  kept  his  secret.  Tru>%  indeed, 
albeit  I  know  my  knights  are  fantastical,  so  fine  a  ftar  In  our  Lance- 
lot must  needs  have  moved  me  to  laughter;  but  now  little  cause 
remains  for  laughter.—  Ill  news,  my  Queen,  for  all  who  love  him 
—  for  his  own  kin  knew  him  not  and  set  upon  him,  and  he  left  the 
field,  no  one  knows  whither,  most  sorely  wounded.  Only  one  item 
of  it  all  cheers  me,  and  that  is  the  hope  that  Lancelot  no  longer 
bears  a  lonely  heart;  for,  against  his  usual  custom  —  and  a  thing 
that  deceived  us  all  —  he  wore  upon  his  helm  a  beautiful  scarle*- 
sleeve,  richly  broidered  with  pearls.  The  gift  of  some  gentle 
maiden,  I  doubt  not;  and  God  grant  he  be  with  her  now!  " 

"Yea,  Lord,"  murmured  Queen  Guineveie,  "thy  hopes  are 
mme,"  and  could  say  no  more,  but  turned  sharply  about  and  fled 
to  her  chamber,  lest  the  King  detect  the  sobs  that  threatened  to 
choke  her.     Here  she  wrestled  with  her  grief,  well-nigh  distraught 


1 1 


B     THE  srORY  Ob 


F   IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


the  thought  that  Lancelot  had  ceasci 


i  to  love  her  and  turnci 


over  inc  uiuugm.  m"'-  *-"■--- , 

to  another.      At  length  pride  came  to  her  a,d,  and  she  rose  and 
moved  about  the  palace,  pale  and  cold. 

Days  passed  and  still  no  message  came  from  Lancelot,  and  the 
good  King  grew  very  uneasy  and  was  exceeding  wroth  with  the 
knight  wh'om'  he  had  sent  in  search  of  him  ll^en  came  Gawam 
lighnhearted  and  courteous  still,  with  a  tale  all  fi:  "d  to  s-.t  the 

occasion.  ,         ,     ,     ~,  . ,^i     t 

"Sir  and   mv  liege,   the   knight  ^as  Lancelot       T^i.s  much   1 
learned  certainly,  but  I  failed  to  find  him,  though  1  rode  the  whole 
country  over.     But  1  lighted  on  the  maid  whose  skeve  he  wore. 
She  is  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the  Lord  of  Asto  at,  and  known 
in  all  the  country  thereabouts  as  '  Elaine,  the  f.ur,  Elame,  the  good 
Elaine,    the    lily-maid    of   Astolat.'     Lovelier   than    the    damfest, 
purest  lily  In  all  the  world  is  this  lily-maid,  and  her  love  is  given 
to  lancelot.     And  1.  thinking  our  courtesy  the  truest  law,  gave 
the  diamond  -nto  her  keeping,  charging  her  to  deliver  .t  at  once 
to  Lancelot;  for  by  my  head,  sh.  knows  where  our  kn.ght  .s  m 

*"t,t'the  clever  speech  failed  to  pacify  Arthur,  and  he  turned 
f  rowningly  upon  the  over-confuient  Gawain :  "Too  courteous  >^u 
are,  truly!  You  shall  go  no  more  on  quest  of  mine,  seeing  that 
you'  forget  obedience  is  the  courtesy  due  to  kings."  . 

'  So  sating,  the  King  turned  shortly  on  his  heel  and  left  Ga.^.n 
staring  after  him  in  silent  anger.  Then  a  vindictive  light  flashed 
into  his  cold  gray  eyes,  and  he  glanced  triumphantly  to  where  the 
Queen  leaned  against  a  pillar,  stricken  to  the  heart  with  the  news 
he  had  given;  then  tossed  back  his  hair  defiantly,  and  strode  into 
the  palace,  there  to  buzz  about  stories  of  the  l.ly-maid  of  Astolat 

"W  all' through  the  palace  flashed  the  whisper :"  Lancelot 
loves  the  lily-maid  of  Astolat,  and  the  lily-maid  loves  h.m.  And 
many  there  were  who  marveled  over  it,  and  took  great  delight 
in  probing  the  Queen,  who  hid  her  suffering  as  best  she  might. 


THE  LILV  MAID  OF  ASIOLAT 


119 


Like  fire  in  dry  stubble  the  story  flared,  and  each  day  some  fresh 
item  was  added  by  the  gossips;  till  the  knights  at  the  banquet  for- 
got to  drink  to  Lancelot  and  the  Queen,  according  to  custom, 
but  pledged  instead  Lancelot  and  the  lily-maid  of  Astolat,  and 
smiled  at  each  other  as  they  did  so;  while  the  Queen  listened  to  it 
all  perforce,  and  smiled  with  cold,  set  lips,  albeit  she  ground  her 
feet  deep  Into  the  velvet  beneath  the  banquet  board,  while  the  meats 
became  as  wormwood  to  her,  and  she  hated  all  who  pledged. 

Meantime,  far  away,  the  maid  of  Astolat,  her  guiltless  rival, 
kept  the  memory  of  Lancelot  green  within  her  heart,  and  watched 
for  him  longingly  day  by  day,  but  he  did  not  come.  Finally,  heart- 
sick with  waiting,  :he  crept  to  her  father's  side  and  begged  him  to 
allow  her  to  go  in  search  of  Lavaine.  But  her  father  guessed 
her  secret;  so  she  confessed  at  once  that  it  was  to  find  Lancelot,  and 
give  into  his  hand  the  diamond,  that  she  wished  to  go.  "  For," 
said  she,  "  in  my  dreams  I  have  seen  him  lying  pale  and  gaunt 
with  wasting  sickness,  all  for  the  lack  of  the  care  that  I  might  give 


11m. 


Fain  would  the  old  man  have  detained  her  at  home,  saying  that 
they  would  surely  have  news  soon;  but  she  had  ever  been  a  petted, 
wilful  child,  and  now  he  could  not  say  her  nay.  So,  perforce, 
he  gave  his  consent,  and  she  set  out  at  once  under  the  escort  of 
her  good  brother.  Sir  Torre.  They  traveled  for  many  weary  miles 
over  the  downs  toward  Camelot,  and  at  last  came  unexpectedly 
upon  Lavaine,  practising  at  arms  upon  his  horse. 

"Lavaine!"  cried  Elaine  breathlessly.  "Lavaine,  how  fares 
my  lord,  Sir  Lancelot?  " 

"  Torre  and  Elaine !  "  ejaculated  the  youth,  in  open-mouthed 
amazement.  "Why  are  ye  here?  Sir  Lancelot!  How  know 
ye  my  lord's  name  is  Lancelot?" 

Elaine  began  eagerly  to  tell  him  of  Gawain  and  his  quest;  but, 
before  she  was  half  through.  Sir  Torre,  being  vexed  with  her  for 
coming  forth,  interrupted  with  a  brief  farewell,  saving  that  Elaine 
could  stay  with  Lavaine  if  she  were  so  minded,  but  as  for  him- 


T20     THI-:  STORY  or  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

self  he  would  get  within  the  ,:Uc.  of  their  kinsman  who  dwelt 
beyond  the  citv.  for  rest  and  shelter.  And  so  the  l.ly-ma.d  went 
alone  with  Lavaine  across  he  poplar  grove  .o  the  cave  of  the 
hernut,  and  the  t.rst  thing  which  she  beheld  was  ^he  remnant  of  her 
scarlet  sleeve  still  hound  upon  the  helmet,  and  it  made  her  hear 
reioice  Half  timidly  she  advanced  into  the  inner  room,  and 
there  saw  the  great  Lancelot,  gaunt  and  pain-wasted,  scarcely  more 
than  the  bare  skeleton  of  his  mighty  self,  lying  upon  a  low  couch 
of  wolf  skins,  and  a  faint  cry  of  pity  escaped  her. 

Gently  she  slipped  to  her  knees  beside  him,  and,  when  he  turned 
bis  fever-kindU-d  eyes  upon  her,  she  held  up  the  gen.  saymg 
falteringly:     "  Your  prize,  the  diamond  sent  you  by  the  Kw.g. 

Then  in  a  broken  voice,  she  told  him  of  all  the  events  wh.ch 
had  followed  his  disappearance  from  the  lists,  and  ended  by  giv- 
ing the  diamond  into  his  hand.  Her  beauti  ul,  P-n-g  /a"  wa 
very  close  to  him.  and  Lancelot  turned  and  kissed  her  l.ghtly,  as 
one  would  kiss  a  child  who  had  performed  some  sweet  service, 
then  he  passed  into  dreamless  .leep.  _        _ 

Through  many  a  weary  day  and  many  a  weaner  mght   the  1 .  y- 
,.aid  watched  over  King  Arthur's  mightiest  kmght,  tending  h.rn 
^vith  never  failing  love  and  care,  though  his  fevering  wound  often 
nnade   him   cross   and   impatient;  until   one   day  the  wise  hermit, 
TkHled  in  herbs  and  potions  and  the  woes  of  --  -'^  ^^J^  ^"J; 
fully  that  her  tender  care  had  saved  his  life.     And  dur  -.g  all  th^ 
LI  Lancelot  watched  Elaine  and  called  her  sister,  an.  saw  with 
soTrow  the  secret  love  that  burned  within  her  heart.     Often  he 
eproached  himself  bitterly  that  he  could  repay  her  love  and  kind- 
ness  only  with  a  brother's  love,  and  felt  that  had  he  met  her  earlier 
L  life    before  that  other  fatal  bond  had  made  him  prisoner,  per- 
ha     e'  si  e  m  ght  have  made  another  world  for  him.     But  now  it 
o    d  n  t  be-,l  was  too  late  to  change,- the  shackles  of     is  old 
W      straitened    him,    his   honor    rooted   in    dishonor    stood,    and 
h  lunfa^hfu'  love  for  Gu.ieverc  needs  must  keep  him  falsely  true 
t  her      Wame,  made  wise  by  love,  felt  that  he  could  not  love  her 


THE  LILY  MAID  OF  ASTOLAT  tii 

in  return,  and,  over  and  over  to  herself,  like  a  little  helpless,  in- 
nocent bird,  she  moaned  plaintively,  "  If  he  will  not  love  mc,  then 
1  must  die." 

As  soon  as  Lancelot  was  able  to  sit  in  the  saddle,  Elaine  and 
Lavainc  guided  him  tenderly  to  Astolat,  and  there  he  lingered  in 
the  comfort  of  the  princi-ly  castle  until  his  wound  was  made  whole, 
and  his  strength  regained.  And  each  morning  Elaine  appeared 
before  him  in  her  loveliest  robes,  hoping  thus  to  awaken  his  love, 
and  saying  to  herself:  "  If  I  be  loved,  these  arc  my  festal  robes. 
If  not,  these  are  the  victim's  flowers  before  he  falls." 

At  last  the  time  came  when  Lancelot  felt  it  were  unwise  to 
tarry  longer,  and  prepared  to  go  back  to  the  King's  service.  But 
before  going  he  was  anxious  to  give  Elaine  some  present,  or  grant 
her  some  boon,  in  token  of  his  grateful  appreciation  of  her  care 
for  him.  To  this  end,  he  besought  her  to  tell  him  what  she  most 
wished  for,  but  Elaine  put  him  off,  not  liking  to  tell  him  of  the 
one  deep  wish,  and  that  only,  that  filled  her  heart.  Finally,  he 
came  to  her  one  day,  as  she  roamed  idly  in  the  rose  garden,  and 
begged  her  to  ask  a  boon,  saying:  "Speak  your  wish,  sweet 
Elaine,  for  I  go  away  to-day." 

Then  all  Elaine's  fears  rose  up  in  her  throat,  the  garden  swam 
before  her,  and  she  faltered  out:  "Going?  And  shall  I  never 
see  you  more?  Must  I  die  for  want  of  one  bold  word?  Nay,  I 
shall  say  it:     I  love  you.     I  have  gone  mad,  methinks." 

"  Ah,  sister,"  answered  Sir  Lancelot  sorrowfully,  "  what  is 
this?" 

"Your  love."  she  said,  innocently  extending  her  white  arms; 
"your  love  —  to  be  your  wife." 

"  But,  think  you  not,  sweet  Elaine,  that  had  I  chosen  to  wed, 
I  would  have  been  wedded  earlier?  Now  there  never  will  be  wife 
of  mine." 

"  Oh,"  wailed  Elaine,  deaf  to  all  thought  but  that  the  parting 
had  come,  and  that  she  who  had  loved  him  back  from  death  to 
life  could  never  win  from  him  a  dearer  name  than  sister,  "  not  to 


,,^     THE  STORY  Ol'  IDYLLS  OF   THE  KING 

he  with  you.  not  to  sec  your  face  -  alas,   for  n.  then,  my  «ood 

'^^^D::;';::i;ien.-  s..^  l....V.  camestW,  seekm,  to  le,.n  her 
hear      h,"  this    s  only  ^  f-t  fancy,  a  Hash  of  youth  such  as  . 
cm      no  all.  and  not  true  love.     You  will  snule  at  .t  yoursel 

heTeafter    when  you  are  mate.l  with  one  of  your  own  years    not 
hcreatter,  >  ^^^^  ^^j  ^^^.t  bc- 

fw  ce  vour  aee.      And  then  win  i,  loi   >    "  ...  u     »w<., 

::,  a''La„celo,s  Ic.uJ  call  carH.d  her  away  to  her  chan.ber  .n 
*  NrU  so  happened  .ha,  .he  1-ord  of  As.ola.,  dreaming  in  the 

lot      If  so  be  vou  could  use  some  roughness,  ere  you  go,  to  blunt 
or  break  her  passion,  all  might  yet  be  well." 

'That  is  a  hard  thing  for  me  to  do,  my  lord,"  repl.ed  Lance- 
lot ^s  i  g  that  1  owe  my  life  to  her,  and  that  I  love  her  as  I 
lot.      scemg  tnai  j  ^^^^^  j  ^^^^  ^^^^^ 

mij^ht  were  she  my  own  dear  sister,  out 

^'""  '''''  "■"  ,  nmc    T  ancelot  sent  for  his  shield;  and  Elaine 

«;<->    towards  even  ng,   Lanceun  stm.  ^^ 


THE  LILY  MAID  OF  ASTOLAT 


123 


This    was    the    only    discourtesy    which    he    could    bring    himself 
to  use. 

Now  a  great  sorrow  spread  itself  over  Astolat  -nd  slowly  sct- 
tlcii  down.  Ihe  lily-maid  who  had  been  the  light  and  joy  of  the 
place  sorrowed  and  drooped  in  her  chamber  high  to  the  east,  like 
a  pale  ghost.  No  more  did  her  liglu  footstep  skim  through  the 
house  and  garden;  no  more  did  her  gay  laughter  bring  smiles  to  the 
faces  of  father  and  brothers,  and  nothing  that  their  love  could 
devise  seemed  to  cheer  her.  All  day  long  she  sat  before  the  empty 
shield-case,  with  the  voice  of  Lancelot  in  her  heart  and  his  picture 
obscuring  her  vision,  mourning  and  praying  that  Death  would  ease 
her  pain.  Then  one  day  the  words  of  a  little  song  came  to  her, 
and  she  wrote  them  down,  calling  it  "  The  Song  of  Love  and 
Death": 

"  Swff t  Is  true  love  tho'  given  in  vain,  in  vain ; 
And  sweet  is  death  who  puts  an  end  to  pain : 
I  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not  I. 

"  Love,  art  tl.ou  sweet?  then  bitter  death  must  be: 
Love,  art  thou  bitter;  sweet  is  death  to  me. 
Oh,  Love,  if  death  be  sweeter,  let  me  die. 

"  Sweet  love,  that  seems  not  made  to  fade  away ; 
Sweet  death,  that  seems  to  make  us  loveless  clav, 
I  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not  L 

"  I  fain  would  follow  love,  if  that  could  be ; 
I  needs  must  follow  death,  who  calls  for  me; 
Call  and  I  follow,  I  follow!  let  me  die!  " 


Her  voice  rang  through  the  castle  like  a  wild  cry,  and  her 
brothers,  shuddering,  whispered  hoarsely,  "  Hark,  the  phantom  of 
the  house  that  shrieks  before  death!  Alas,  our  sweet  sister!" 
This  was  in  accordance  with  a  superstition  of  the  times,  for  in 
those  days  every  one  believed  that  the  Death  Spirit  gave  warning 


,,4      inK  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OK  THE  KINO 

before  he  entered  a  home.  The  Uthcr  a.,.1  brothers,  therefore, 
hastened  «ith  all  speed  to  Ihunc's  room,  but  found  that  the  shadow 
of  Death  had  outnripped  them  and  already  lurked  over  the  sweet 
face  of  their  lily-maid,  and  not  one  ot  them  could  speak 

For  a  moment  I'laine  watched  them,  smdin^;  sweetly,  then  gave 
a  pule  little  hand  to  each  of  her  brothers:  "  Sweet  brothers  she 
asked  "  do  you  remember  how  you  used  to  take  me.  when  was 
a  little  child,  up  the  i.ver  in  the  ^reat  boatmen's  ba-^e;  and  how 
you  would  never  go  beyond  the  cape  that  has  the  jvoplar  on  .t 
thouKh  I  cried  to  go  on  and  find  the  palace  of  the  Kmg?  Las 
niizht  I  dreamed  that  I  was  out  alone  upon  the  swollen  river,  and 
mv  childish  wish  to  find  the  palace  still  stirred  in  .ny  heart,  and 
now  that  I  am  awake  the  wish  still  remams,  and  I  pray  thee 
Father,  let  me  go  up  to  the  great  Court  of  Arthur  and  there  imd 

'''"' Peace,  child  1  "  answered  the  father,  "von  have  riot  the 
strength  to  go  so  far  al-e.  And  wherefore  would  you  look  on 
this  proud  fellow  again,  who  scorns  us  all?"  ^ 

"  Oh  "  cried  Torre,  breaking  into  stormy  sobs,  1  never  loveU 
the  man,  and  if  I  can  but  meet  him,  I  care  not  how  great  he  be, 
1  shall  surely  strike  him  dead,  for  great  grief  hath  he  wrought  m 

this  house."  ....         •  j         ^i 

"  Fret  not  yourself,  dear  brother,"  pleaded  the  l.ly-ma.d  gently, 
"  nor  be  angry,  seeing  it  is  no  more  ^^r  Lancelot's  fault  not  to 
love  me,  than  it  is  mine  to  love  him  of  all  men  who  seems  to  me  the 

^'^"  Highest?"  queried  her  father  scornfully,  meaning  to  break 
her  love  if  he  could.  "  Daughter,  I  know  not  what  you  cal  the 
highest,  but  this  I  do  know,  for  it  is  talked  among  all,  he  loves 
the  queen  in  open  shame,  and  she  returns  his  love;  if  this  be  high, 

what  is  it  to  be  low?"  ^ 

"O  Father,"  answered  the  lily-maid  faintly.  Ihesc  are 
slanders.  Never  yet  was  man  so  noble,  but  some  made  ignoble 
talk      He  makes  no  friend  who  never  made  a  foe.     It  is  my  glory 


THE  LILY  MAID  OL  ASTOLAT 


125 


to  have  loved  one  peerless,  without  stain;  so  let  me  die,  my  Father, 
and  I  ai.i  not  all  unhappy,  even  though  I  have  loved  (ioij's  hest 
and  greatest  knight  without  love  in  return.  I  hank  you,  I'athcr, 
for  wishinf?  me  to  live,  but  you  are  workinp;  against  your  own  de- 
sire; for,  if  I  could  believe  the  thin^-.  you  say,  1  should  but  die 
chc  sooner.  Cease,  l'"athe-,  and  call  the  priest  that  he  may  slirivc 
me  of  my  sins." 

So  the  holy  man  was  summoned  and  ministered  to  her  spirit, 
ami  departed,  leavrng  her  bright  and  happy.  Then  she  turned 
ea(;rerly  to  Lavaine,  her  youngest  and  dearest,  and  besought  him 
to  write  a  letter  for  her. 

"Is  it  for  Lancelot?"  queried  the  boy-knight.  "If  it  is  for 
my  dear  lord,  then  will  1  bear  it  to  him  gladly." 

"  Nay,  dear  brother,"  answered  Llaine  softly,  "  'tis  for  Lance- 
lot and  the  Queen  and  all  the  world  beside,  and  I  myself  must 
bear  i  ." 

In  unbroken  silence  the  letter  was  written  according  to  her  dicta- 
tion. Then  Flaine  turned  pleadingly  to  her  father:  "O  good 
Father,  tender  and  true,  you  who  have  always  given  me  my  will, 
deny  not  now  my  last  request  I  When  the  breath  is  gone  from 
out  my  body,  wrap  me  in  my  richest,  fairest  raiment,  and  deck 
my  little  bed  with  coverings  as  dainty  and  beautiful  as  the  Queen's 
own;  then  bear  me  on  it  to  the  old  black  barge,  and  drape  it  like 
a  funeral  pall,  and  let  our  old  dumb  servant  row  le  to  the  Court 
of  Arthur.  But  ere  I  die,  place  the  letter  in  my  uand  that  I  may 
bear  it  with  me.  And  let  us  go  alone;  for  none  of  you  could  speak 
for  me  so  eloquently  as  mine  own  silent  self.  Shall  it  be  so, 
Father?     Promise!     O  Father,  promise  me." 

And  the  father  who  had  never  denied  even  her  simplest  request 
in  life  could  not  deny  her  in  death,  so  promised  with  bitter  sobs. 
And  then  Flaine  grew  so  bright  and  happy  that  the  shadow  seemed 
to  lift  from  her  face,  and  her  household  whispered  one  to  another 
that  mayhap  Death  had  stayed  his  hand,  and  that  perhaps  'twas 
more  in  imagination  than  in  the  blood.     But  on  the  eleventh  morn- 


126     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

inir  she  asked  her  father  for  the  letter,  and,  with  a  weet  low- 
murmured  farewell  to  all,  she  died. 

Grief  reigned  supreme  in  Astolat,  and  the  whole  house  mourned 
uncomforted,  but  all  was  done  as  the  dear  lily-maid  desired.  Her 
brothers  bore  her  gently  to  the  black-samite  draped  barge,  and  laid 
her  tenderly  in  a  cloth  of  gold  that  wrapped  her  to  her  waist. 
Purest  white  was  her  shroud,  and  her  beautiful,  unbound  hair 
framed  her  face  and  floated  o'er  her  breast  and  pillow  in  purest 
gold.  In  one  hand  she  bore  the  letter,  and  In  the  other  Lavaine 
placed  ■>  beautiful,  white  lily,  fitting  emblem  of  the  lily-maid. 
Above  her  head  they  hung  the  silk-embroidered  cover  she  had 
wrought  for  Lancelot's  shield,  and  they  bent  over  her  for  the  last 

farewell. 

"  Look,  Torre,"  cr^ed  Lavaine  brokenly,  "  she  smiles  as  though 
her  sleep  were  sweet!  One  scarce  would  call  her  dead,  but  sleep- 
ing. Oh,  Elaine,  sweet  lily-maid  of  Astolat,  farewell!  Farewell, 
my  sister  dear!     Sweet  be  thy  rest!  " 

And  so  the  brothers  turned  stumblingly  away,  blinded  by  their 
tears;  and  the  dead,  rowed  by  the  dumb,  passed  up  the  river  to- 
ward  the  great  King's  palace  at  Camelot. 

Now  it  chanced  that  on  that  very  day  Sir  Lancelot  craved  an 
audience  of  the  Queen  to  present  to  her  the  diamonds  won  in  the 
nine  years'  jousts.  Coldly,  like  a  marble  statue  of  herself,  the 
Queen  received  him  in  a  vine-clad  oriel  on  the  river  side  of  the 

palace.  ^^ 

"  O  Queen!  "  cried  Lancelot,  kneeling  at  her  feet,  '  my  Queen, 
I  bring  you  fitting  tribute  of  your  beauty.  Grant  my  worship, 
dear  ladv,  and  make  me  happy  by  accepting  these  jewels.  I  had 
not  won  but  for  you.  Priceless  are  they,  and  yet  scarce  fit  to  match 
your  loveliness!  I  pray  you  to  twine  them  into  an  armlet  for  the 
roundest  arm  on  earth,  or  make  them  into  a  necklace  for  a  neck 
which  shames  the  graceful  swan!  And,  dear  lady,  rumors  have 
I  heard  flying  through  the  Court  which  I  trust  you  have  no.  given 
ear  to.     Our  bond,  not  being  the  bond  of  man  and  wife,  should 


THE  LILY  MAID  OF  ASTOLAT  127 

have  in  It  a  firmer  trust.     Let  rumors  be.     When  did  not  rumors 
fly?     I  trust  that  you  believe  me  in  your  own  nobleness." 

As  he  spoke,  the  Queen  half  turned  away  and  plucked  from 
the  vine-embowered  window  leaf  after  leaf,  and  threw  them,  all 
torn  and  crumpled,  upon  the  floor,  till  the  place  was  strewn  with 
green.  Then,  accepted  the  diamonds  with  a  cold  passive  hand, 
and  laid  them  upon  the  table,  ere  she  burst  forth  angrily,  filled 
with  her  own  fancied  wrongs: 

"  It  may  be  I  am  quicker  of  belief  than  you  believe  me,  Lance- 
lot of  the  Lake.  Our  bond  is  not  the  bond  of  man  and  wife,  and 
is  then  easier  broken  —  this  much  hath  it  of  good.  For  many 
years  I  have  for  your  sake  done  wrong  to  one  whom  in  my  heart 
of  hearts  I  ever  acknowledged  the  nobler.  And  now,  diamonds 
for  met  To  loyal  hearts  the  value  of  all  gifts  must  vary  as  the 
giver's.  I  want  them  not!  Give  them  to  her,  your  new  fancy! 
I  pray  you  add  my  diamonds  to  her  pearls!  Deck  her  in  this 
splendor;  tell  her  she  shines  me  down:  an  armlet  for  an  arm  to 
which  the  Queen's  is  haggard,  or  a  necklace  for  a  neck,  oh,  as 
much  fairc  as  faith  once  tair  was  richer  than  these  diamonds  I 
Nay,  by  the  mother  of  our  Lord  himself,  she  shall  not  have  them !  " 
so  saying,  the  angry  Queen,  beside  herself  with  jealousy,  caught 
up  the  diamonds  and  flung  them  passionately  into  the  river,  then 
rushed  in  frenzy  from  the  room. 

Lancelot  staggered  to  the  window  ledge  and  leaned,  half-sick 
of  life  and  love  and  a'  things  of  the' world  worldly,  looking  down 
upon  the  water  where  his  jeweled  hopes  lay  buried.  And  as  he 
stood  there,  lo!  there  came  slowly  up  the  funeral-draped  barge 
bearing  the  lily-maid  of  Astolat,  and  paused  beneath  his  window, 
for  the  gateway  of  the  palace  was  near  at  hand.  Lancelot  was 
stricken  as  dumb  as  Elaine's  poor  servitor  with  amazement  and 
grief.  "My  pure  lily-maid!  Sweet  Elaine  of  Astolat!"  cried 
his  heart  reproachfully.  "  O  woe  is  me!  Her  fatner  judged  the 
thing  aright.  Sweet  Heaven,  that  such  must  be!  Would  to  God, 
Llaine,  I  had  died  for  thee  I  " 


,28     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

And  while  Lancelot  s.ood  motionless,  struggling  with  his  deep 
emotion,  for  he  had  loved  the  sweet  l.ly-maid  dearly,  though  not 
as  she  desired,  the  guarC    of  the  castle  and  the  peoplc  st  -d 
wonderingly,  whispering  one  to  another,  "Who  an''  -hat    s    t?        . 
Then,  as  the  dumb  man  responded  not  to  the.r  quenes,  and  all  h.s 
face  remained  as  motionless  as  though  cast  in  stone  some  one  cned 
"  He  is  enchanted.     He  cannot  speak.     And  she  look  more  beau- 
t,ful  than  the  fairest  angel  is  she!     She  sleeps  1     It  .s  the  Fa.ry 

Queen  herself  1  "  v  u,^  i,»pn 

Cries  of  dismay  and  grief  arose  on  every  hand,  for  .t  had  been 
prophesied  that  the  King  would  not  die,  but  would  one  day  pa 
L  fairyland.     And  many  were  there  who  beheved,  mdeed,  that 
this  was  the  fairy  barge,  come  to  carry  the.r  Kmg  away 

Soon  Arthur  himself  heard  the  no.se  and  came,  with  h,s  kn.ghts 
to  see  what  it  was  all  about.  Then  the  dumb  man  uprose  m  silent 
ma  esty  and  pointed  first  to  the  dead  maiden,  then  to  Arthur  and 
It  tl  the  castle  doors;  and  the  great  Kmg  understood  h.m  and 
signed  to  two  of  his  purest  knights,  Sir  Perc.vale  and  S  r  Galahad, 
to  lift  the  maiden  and  bear  her  reverently  mto  the  hall. 

All  the  knights  and  ladies  gathered  around,  and  soon  came  the 
fine  Gawain  who  had  bade  her  a  thousand  farew^  s,  .ymg  m 
amazement:     "The     lily-maid!     Sweet     Elame     of     Astolatl 
Th  n Tame  Lancelot  who  had  taken  no  farewell,  and  stood  before 
her  as  voiceless  now  as  when  she  leaned  from  the  casement  gazmg 
a    h  m;  and  all  his  heart  was  lead  within  him.  and  the  people 
Irvel  d  at  his  emotion  and  whispered  one  to  another.     Last  of 
aT  came  Queen  Guinevere,  and,  when  she  saw  the  beautiful,  m- 
n  c "rdead  face,  her  anger  melted,  and  all  her  heart  thnlled  with 
purest  pity.     Then  King  Arthur  spied  the  letter  m  her  hand.  and. 
stooping,  took  It  gently,  broke  the  seal,  and  read: 

.'  Mo  t  noble  lord,  Sir  Lancelot  of  the  Lake,  L  sometime  known 

as  the  Maid  of  Astolat,  am  come  to  bid  farewell  to  thee,  smce 

hou  hast  taken  no  farewell  of  me.     I  loved  thee    and  mv  love 

Lad  no    eturn,  so  therefore  has  it  been  my  death.     And  so  I  make 


THE  LILY  MAID  OF  ASTOLAT 


129 


moan  to  Queen  Guinevere  and  to  all  the  ladies  of  the  Court  that 
ye  pray  for  my  soul  and  give  me  burial.  And  do  thou,  too,  Sir 
Lancelot,  pray  for  my  soul,  as  thou  art  a  knight  peerless." 

And  all  those  who  heard  the  letter  wept  for  pity,  and,  glancing 
at  the  maiden  half-fancied  that  her  lips  moved.  Many  eyes  were 
turned  on  Lancelot  reprovingly,  and,  seeing  this,  he  stepped  out 
before  them  all  and  told  the  lily-maid's  story  in  a  trembling  voice:  — 

"  My  lord  Arthur,  and  all  ye  that  hear,  know  that  I  am  right 
heavy  for  this  gentle  maiden's  death,  for  good  she  was  and  true, 
and  nursed  me  from  my  wound,  and  loved  me  with  a  love  passing 
the  love  of  women.  God  knows  I  gave  her  no  cause  to  love  me, 
and  only  showed  her  a  brother's  love  in  return,  of  this  her  father 
and  brethren  will  bear  witness.  Nay,  more,  her  father  begged 
me,  when  I  was  leaving,  to  be  plain  and  blunt  and  break  her  pas- 
sion with  some  discourtesy.  This  I  disliked  to  do,  for  the  damsel 
had  been  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  loved  her  as  though  she  had  been 
my  own  dear  sister,  but,  to  please  her  father,  I  left  her  without 
taking  farewell.  And  now,  from  the  letter,  it  would  seem  that 
I  only  wounded  her  gentle  heart  in  vain." 

"  Sir  Knight,"  cried  the  Queen  bitterly,  her  anger  still  working 
like  a  sea  after  storm,  "  it  seems  to  me  you  might  have  shown  her 
so  much  grace  as  would  have  kept  her  from  her  death  I  " 

Lancelot  looked  up  quickly,  their  eyes  met,  and  her  own  fell: 
"  Queen,"  he  said  slowly,  "  she  would  not  be  content  save  to  be 
my  wife  or  my  love,  and  neither  of  these  could  be.  I  told  her 
that  her  love  was  but  the  flash  of  youth,  and  would  die  to  rise 
again  for  some  one  more  suitable  to  her  in  age.  And  also  did  I 
promise  that  when  she  had  put  aside  her  thought  of  me  and  wedded 
some  youthful  love  more  worthy  of  her,  I  would  endow  them  with 
wealth  and  goods  from  my  own  estate.  More  than  this  I  could 
not  do,  and  this  she  would  not  have,  but  grieving,  died." 

"  Alas,"  said  King  Arthur,  sighing  heavily,  "  I  can  not  see  that 
thou  art  to  blame,  albeit,  lovely  as  she  is  in  death,  she  must  have 
been  radiant  enough  in  life  to  have  awakened  love  in  the  heart 


I30     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

of  the  noblest  knight.      But  it  is  thy  duty  and  mine,  as  head  of  the 
Round  Table,  to  sec  that  she  be  buried  worshipfully." 

So  the  King  gave  orders  that  a  tomb  should  be  opened  for  Elaine, 
among  the  royal  dead  in  the  richest  shrine  in  Camelot,  and  he  him- 
self led  the  funeral  train.  All  the  knights  followed  in  martial  or- 
der, and  "  with  gorgeous  obsequies,  mass,  and  rolling  music  "  the 
lily-maid's  golden  head  was  laid  low  in  the  dust,  "  ashes  to  ashes," 
among  the  half-forgotten  Kings  and  royal  ladies.  And  Arthur 
commanded:  "Let  her  tomb  be  grand  and  costly.  Place  her 
image  thereupon,  with  a  carved  lily  in  her  hand,  and  the  shield 
of  Lancelot  at  her  feet,  and  blazon  with  gold  and  azure  letters  the 
story  of  her  voyage  hither,  that  all  true  hearts  may  read." 

Then  the  great  crowd  turned  homeward,  in  such  order  as  pleased 
each,  and  the  Queen,  marking  where  Sir  Lc  .elot  stood  ^part  with 
his  eyes  bent  upon  the  ground,  passed  near  him  and  murmured 
low:     "  Lancelot,  forgive  me;  mine  was  jealousy  in  love." 

"  Aye,"  returned  Lancelot,  without  looking  up,  "  that  is  love's 
curse!     Pass  on,  my  Queen,  forgiven." 

And  Arthur,  the  pure  King,  scing  his  knight's  clouded  brow, 
came  to  him  and  said  affectionately:  "  Lancelot,  my  Lancelot,  my 
knight  in  whom  I  have  the  most  joy  and  affection,  seeing  this  home- 
less trouble  in  your  eyes,  I  would  to  God  that  thou  couldst  have 
loved  this  maiden,  so  fair  and  pure,  fashioned  for  thee  alone  it 
seems,  who  might  have  made  for  thee  a  happy  home  and  given 
thee  loving  sons  to  inherit  the  name  and  fame  of  Lancelot  of  the 

Lake." 

"  Aye,  my  lord,"  answered  Lancelot  faintly,  "  fair  and  pure  in- 
deed she  was,  and  as  lovely  in  mind  as  in  body,  but  love  cometh 
not  by  force." 

"No,"  sighed  the  King,  "but  there  is  nothing  on  this  side 
of  Heaven  better  than  true,  married  love,  and  that  she  failed  to 
win  thee  to  this,  true  and  gentle  as  thou  art,  is  sore  pity." 

Lancelot  could  form  no  answer,  and  turned  away,  wandering 
blindly  to  a  friendly  cove  beside  the  river.     Here  he  lifted  up  his 


THE  LILY  MAID  OF  ASTOLAT 


131 


eyes  and  saw  the  barge  that  brought  the  maid  of  Astolat  moving 
afar  off,  a  blot  upon  the  stream.  And  he  murmured  low  in  grief: 
"  Ah,  sweet  lily-maid,  you  loved  me  surely  with  a  love  far  tenderer 
than  my  Queen's.  Farewell,  fair  lily,  now  —  at  last.  Yea,  I  will 
indeed  pray  ever  for  thy  soul,  as  thou  didst  desire  me.  Queen, 
may  not  your  growing  fear  for  name  and  fame  tell  truly  of  a  love 
that  wanes?  And  why  did  the  King  dwell  on  my  name  to  me? 
Mine  own  name  shames  me,  seeming  a  reproach.  Lancelot  of  the 
Lake!  Indeed,  'twere  better  if  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  had  drowned 
mc  in  the  mere  from  which  they  say  I  sprung.  Alas,  for  Arthur's 
greatest  knight — a  man  not  after  Arthur's  heart!  Of  what 
worth  is  my  greatness  or  my  name  if  only  it  makes  men  worse,  and 
my  example  leads  them  to  sin?  I  will  break  these  sundering  bonds 
of  shame  1  But  can  I  if  she  wills  it  not?  Mayhap,  fair  lily,  thou 
hast  not  died  in  vain  I  Beseech  God,  if  I  do  not  change,  to  send 
his  angel  down  to  seize  mc  by  the  hair  and  bear  me  far,  and  fling 
me  deep  into  that  forgotten  mere  which  lies  among  the  tumbled 
fragments  of  the  hills." 

And  so  Lancelot  mourned  and  wrestled  with  his  troubled  spirit 
throughout  all  the  long  night,  not  knowing  be  should  die  a  holy 
man. 


f 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE   SEARCH    FOR   THE    HOLY   GRAIL 

THE  search  for  the  Holy  Grail  was  the  most  wonderful 
quest  in  all  the  history  of  Arthur.  And  it  began  in  this 
wise : 

The  gentle  sister  of  Sir  Percivale,  known  among  the  knight- 
hood as  "  Percivale  the  Pure,"  being  disappointed  In  love,  fled 
for  peace  to  a  convent  and  devoted  herself  to  a  life  of  prayer  and 
praise,  fasting  and  almsgiving.  Here  she  learned  from  her  Con- 
fessor, an  aged  man  whose  hair  was  whitened  by  an  hundred  win- 
ters, a  legend  concerning  the  time  of  our  Lord,  which  had  been 
handed  down  through  five  or  six  generations. 

When  our  Lord  Christ  hung  upon  the  cross,  there  came  one 
of  his  loving  followers,  Joseph  of  Arimathsa,  and  caught  in  a 
cup  the  blood  which  fell  from  the  Master's  wounded  side.  And 
this  cup,  WaS  called  the  "  Holy  Grail,"  and  was  the  same  from 
which  our  Lord  had  drunk  at  the  Last  Supper  with  his  disciples. 
Now,  In  the  dark  days  of  persecution  that  followed,  Joseph  was 
obliged  to  flee  from  the  Holy  Land,  and  took  refuge  in  the  island 
of  Britain,  where  Aviragus,  the  heathen  prince,  gave  him  a  home 
in  the  town  of  Glastonbury.  Here  Joseph  wished  to  found  a 
church  of  the  true  faith,  and  desired  from  God  a  sign  from  Heaven 
as  to  the  fitness  of  the  place.  So,  aft^r  much  fasting  and  prayer, 
he  planted  his  hard  pilgrim  staff  in  the  ground  one  Christmas  eve, 
and  the  next  morning,  lo !  a  wonderful  miracle  had  happened. 
The  staff  had  taken  root  and  was  crowned  with  leaves  and  flowers, 
and  Joseph  took  it  as  a  symbol  that  the  faith  of  Christ  would  thrive 
and  blossom  in  that  heathen  land.  And  the  staff  grew  into  a  beau- 
tiful thorn  tree,  and  ever  since  that  time  the  winter  thorn  has  blos- 
somed at  Christmas  in  memory  of  our  Lord. 

132 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  HOLY  GRAIL      133 

The  Holy  Grail  remained  in  the  possession  of  Joseph  for  many 
years,  and  was  a  great  blessing  to  mankind;  for  whoever  was  suf- 
fering or  afflicted  in  any  way  had  but  to  touch  it,  or  look  at  it, 
and  their  troubles  fled.  But  the  times  grew  so  evil  that  so  pure  a 
thing  could  not  remain  in  the  sin-afflicted  world,  and  it  was  caught 
up  to  Heaven.  But  when  Joseph  of  Arimathsa  had  been  sleeping 
under  the  Glastonbury  thorn  for  about  four  hundred  years,  and 
the  reign  of  Arthur,  "  the  blameless  white  king,"  was  come,  pious 
people  everywhere  began  to  hope  that  the  Grail  might  again  be 
returned  to  earth  to  crown  and  glorify  the  good  works  of  their 
noble  king.  Percivale's  sister,  the  gentle  sweet-eyed  nun,  spent 
all  her  days  in  fasting  and  in  prayer  that  the  Grail  might  come 
once  more.  And  her  great  faith  and  constant  prayer  was  re- 
warded thus: 

One  night  as  she  lay  sleeping  In  her  narrow  convent  cell,  she 
was  awakened  by  a  sound  as  of  silver  horns  blowing  over  the  hills 
in  the  far  distance.  At  first  she  thought  it  some  hunter's  horn, 
but  as  the  sound  came  nearer  and  louder,  and  sleep  cleared  from 
her  brain,  she  realized  that  Arthur  and  his  knights  would  not  be 
abroad  at  that  hour,  and  that  "  naught  that  we  blow  with  breath 
or  touch  with  hands"  could  make  such  clear,  beautiful  music. 
Wonderingly  she  raised  herself  from  her  rest,  and  then  a  long 
silver  beam  stole  into  the  room,  and  down  the  beam  floated  the 
Holy  Grail,  "  rose-red  with  beatings  in  it,  as  if  alive,"  and  the 
white  walls  of  the  room  glowed  with  rosy  colors;  and  when  the 
Grail  had  passed,  the  beam  faded  away  and  the  rosy  quiverings 
died  away  into  the  night.  Then  the  saintly  maiden  rose  up  and 
spent  the  remaining  night  hours  in  joyful  prayer  and  thanksgiving, 
and,  as  soon  as  morning  dawned,  hurried  away  to  her  brother. 

"  O  Percivale!  "  she  eric  ;.  her  eyes  shining  with  beautiful  light 
and  holiness,  "  the  Grail  has  come!  The  Holy  Thing  is  here  on 
earth  once  morel  Rejoice  with  me,  sweet  brother,  for  I  have 
seen  it,  truly."  Then  she  told  him  all  about  the  vision  and  be- 
seeched  him,  saying:     "Brother,  fast  thou,  too,  and  pray.     And 


134     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

tell   thy  brother  knights  to   fast  and  pray,  that  so  perchance  the 
vision  may  be  seen  by  thee  and  those,  and  all  the  world  be  healed." 

And  Percivale  hastened  to  spread  the  good  news  among  men, 
and  himself  and  many  others  fasted  and  prayed  for  weeks,  ex- 
pectant of  the  wonder  that  would  be. 

Now  there  dwelt  in  Arthur's  halls  a  beautiful  boy-knight  of 
gentle  mien,  who  moved  about  always  clothed  in  spotless  white, 
with  a  face  radiant  as  an  angel's,  and  he  was  pure  as  the  driven 
snow.  Sir  Galahad  was  his  name.  Brothers  and  sisters  he  had 
not;  neither  did  any  one  know  who  his  parents  were,  but  he  had 
been  reared  by  the  nuns  at  the  convent.  The  story  of  the  Grail 
inspired  him,  and  he  went  to  the  nun  to  inquire  concerning  it.  So 
pleased  was  the  gentle  sister  with  his  purity  and  innocence,  that 
she  cut  from  her  shining  wealth  of  hair  enough  to  plait  a  broad, 
strong  sword-belt,  and  into  this  she  wove  with  silver  and  crimson 
threads  a  strange  device  of  a  crimson  grail  within  a  silver  beam, 
and  bound  it  on  the  vouth,  saying:  "My  knight  of  Heaven, 
whose  faith  and  love  is  one  with  mine,  round  thee  I  bind  my  belt. 
Go  forth,  fast  and  pray,  for  thou  shalt  see  what  I  have  seen,  and 
one  will  crown  thee  king  far  away  in  the  spiritual  city." 

At  the  great  Round  Table  in  the  hall  at  Camclot  there  was 
one  vacant  seat,  which  Merlin,  the  great  wizard,  had  built.  It 
was  fashioned  with  strange  inscriptions  and  devices,  and  was  called 
"  The  Siege  Perilous."  No  one  dared  occupy  it,  because,  accord- 
ing to  Merlin,  none  but  the  pure  could  sit  therein  safely.  And 
the  strength  of  the  warning  had  been  fully  proven:  at  different 
times  daring  ones  who  deemed  themselves  above  reproach,  so 
rumor  whispered,  had  attempted  it,  and  been  swallowed  up  for- 
evermore. 

Now  it  chanced  one  evening  that,  as  the  knights  sat  around 
the  table,  Sir  Galahad  announced  his  intention  of  occupying  the 
seat  called  the  Siege  Perilous.  And  the  knights  cried  out  in  alarm 
and  warning,  but  Galahad  only  laughed  at  their  fears,  saying, 
"  If  I   lose  myself,  I  save  myself,"  and  straightway  sat  down. 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  HOLY  GRAIL      135 

Then  all  the  knights  gasped  and  looked  to  see  some  dreadful 
thing  befall  him,  but  to  their  amazement  no  judgment  was  meted 
out.  Instead,  a  great  miracle  was  worked  in  their  midst.  All  at 
once  there  came  a  dreadful  sound  as  though  the  roof  were  crack- 
ing and  rending  over  their  heads.  A  fearful  blast  of  mighty  wind 
swept  down  upon  the  castle,  and  terr  hie  thunders  pealed  aloft; 
and  mingled  with  the  sound  of  thunder  was  a  strange  cry,  such 
as  man  had  never  heard  before.  Then  there  burst  into  the  room 
a  beam  of  light,  seven  times  more  clear  than  day,  and  down  that 
long,  clear  beam  stole  the  Holy  Grail,  all  enshrouded  in  a  luminous 
cloud,  and  none  could  see  who  bore  it.  As  it  passed,  the  knights 
were  stricken  dumb,  and  each  one  arose  and  beheld  his  fellow's 
face  as  in  a  glory,  and  no  one  spoke  until  the  light  had  vanished 
and  the  thunders  ceased. 

Then  Sir  Percivale  found  his  voice  and  cried  out,  vowing  that, 
because  he  had  not  seen  the  Grail  plainly,  he  would  ride  in  quest  of 
it  and  see  it  without  the  veil,  if  it  took  a  twelvemonth  and  a  day. 
And  many  other  knights  also  took  the  vow,  among  them  being 
Galahad  and  Lancelot,  and  his  cousin  Sir  Bors,  and  Gawain,  the 
Courteous,  who  shouted  louder  than  all  the  rest. 

Now  it  chanced  that  King  Arthur  was  not  in  the  hall  when  the 
vision  appeared,  having  ridden  forth  with  some  of  his  knights 
early  in  the  day  to  storm  the  fastness  of  a  horde  of  robbers  who 
were  working  much  damage  along  the  borders.  But  from  afar 
he  heard  the  terrible  thunder  and  saw  the  smoke  rolling  up  from 
the  roofs  of  Camelot,  and  cried  out  in  alarm  lest  they  had  been 
smitten  by  lightning,  and  the  wonderful  work  wrought  by  Merlin 
should  vanish  in  unremorseful  folds  of  rolling  fire.  With  all  speed 
he  spurred  toward  home  and  entered  with  his  smoked,  grimy, 
blood-stained  followers  into  the  vision-swept  room,  and  stood  In 
wonder  at  the  knights,  all  in  a  tumult,  some  vowing,  some  pro- 
testing. 

"  Percivale !     Percivale !  "  .he  cried,  half  in  amaze,  half  in  anger, 
to  the  knight  nearest  him,  "  what  means  this  unseemly  confusion?  " 


136     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLl  ^  OF  THE  KING 

Anil  I'crcivale  told  him  what  liaJ  taken  place,  and  how  the 
knights  had  vowed  their  vows  to  see  the  (Irail  uncovered.  Then 
the  King's  face  grew  dark  indeed,  and  he  cried  in  anguish: 
"Woe  is  me,  my  knights!  Had  I  been  here,  ye  had  no  sworn 
this  vow." 

"  Aye!  "  cried  Sir  Percivale  boldly,  unlike  his  usual  meek,  quiet 
self,  "  if  thou  hadst  been  here  thyself,  my  King,  thou,  too,  wouldst 
have  sworn!  " 

"How  now!"  exclaimed  Arthur  sternly.  "Art  thou  so  bold 
and  hast  not  seen  the  Grail?" 

"  Nay,  Lord,"  answered  Percivale,  "  I  heard  the  sound,  I  saw 
the  light,  but  since  I  beheld  only  the  shadow  of  the  Holy  Thing, 
I  swore  a  vow  to  follow  it  until  I  saw." 

The  King  then  asked  various  members  of  the  Order  If  they  had 
seen  the  Grail,  but  all  answered  as  one:  "  Nay,  Lord,  and  there- 
fore have  we  sworn  our  vows." 

"  Lo,  now,"  queried  Arthur  bitterly,  "have  ye  seen  a  cloud? 
What  go  ye  into  the  wilderness  to  see?  " 

Then  on  a  sudden  the  voice  of  Galahad  came  clear  and  sweet 
from  the  lower  end  of  the  hall :  "  O  King,  I  not  only  saw  the 
wondrous  Grail,  but  heard  a  voice  saying,  'O  Galahad!  O  Gal- 
ahad, follow  me!  '  " 

"  Ah,  Galahad,  Galahad,"  said  the  King,  "  for  such  as  thou 
is  the  vision;  not  for  these  other  of  my  knights.  No  doubt  your 
pure  self  and  the  saintly  maiden  have  seen  Christ's  holy  symbol. 
But,"  turning  to  the  others,  "  ye  are  not  Galahads,  no,  nor  Per- 
civales,  not  men  of  holiness  and  stainless  life,  but  rather  war- 
riors, good  and  true,  with  strength  to  right  the  wrong,  beat  down 
violence  and  lawlessness,  and  drive  the  heathen  from  our  land. 
But  now  ye  wish  to  foUov/  like  sheep  the  leader's  bell;  one  hath 
seen  the  vision  and  all  the  rest,  blind  though  ye  be,  think  ye  will 
see  it,  too.  Well,  so  be  it!  Since  your  vows  are  made,  they  are 
sacred,  and  ye  must  go.  However,  I  know  fuU  well  that  many 
will  return  no  more,  but  lose  their  lives  in  following  wandering 


THE  SEARCH   FOR  THE  HOEY  GRAH.      137 

fires!  Our  gootl  hall  will  rin^  with  calls  for  knightly  quests  and 
noble  deeds,  ami  who  will  respond,  think  you?  O  rue!  that  the 
flower  of  my  realm  should  thus  turn  their  backs  upon  duty  and 
court  ruin!  Vc  think  I  am  a  gloomy  prophet;  wc  shall  see.  But, 
my  knights,  ere  wc  part,  and  the  fair  Order  of  the  Round  Table 
which  1  made,  be  scattered,  let  us  meet  once  more  in  a  jo\ous 
tournament  to-morrow,  that  I  may  count  your  ranks  for  the  last 
time   unbroken." 

Accordingly,  the  next  day  the  great  joust  was  held,  and  never 
was  such  a  tourney  heKI  before  at  Camelot.  All  the  knights 
jousted  well  and  nobly,  and  (Jalahad  and  Percivale.  being  tilled 
with  holy  power,  won  tumultuous  shouts  from  the  people  for  their 
surprising  quickness  and  skill.  Hut  not  a  knight  thought  of  for- 
saking his  vow,  and  toward  evening  one  and  all  began  making 
silent  preparations  to  depart  on  the  morrow.  Then  the  veil  of 
sorrow  which  had  all  day  been  hovering  over  Camelot,  casting 
shadows  on  the  merriment,  fell  and  muffled  all  in  gloom. 

Early  In  the  morning  the  knights  passed  from  Camelot  to  engage 
in  the  Great  Quest,  and  all  the  windows  and  long  galleries  and 
balconies  and  even  the  house-tops  were  filled  with  people,  who 
rained  flowers  upon  them  and  cheered  and  cried,  "God-speed!" 
as  they  passed.  But  in  the  King's  household  there  was  great  grief, 
and  the  noble  King  could  scarcely  control  his  voice  to  speak  fare- 
well. The  Court  ladles  wfpt  and  wailed  and  accompanied  their 
knights  to  the  gateway,  and  Queen  Guinevere,  who  rode  by  Lance- 
lot's side,  shrieked  aloud  in  agony,  crying:  ".Mas,  this  madness 
has  come  upon  us  for  our  sins!  " 

At  the  mystic  gateway,  v, 'lere  the  three  queens  stood  on  guard, 
the  company  broke  up,  and  each  knight  went  his  own  way,  while 
Arthur  and  his  sorrowing  household  returned  to  the  deserted  halls 
of  Camelot.  And  for  a  time  the  blameless,  whole-souled  King 
shut  himself  up,  and  mourned  in  exceeding  grief  and  bitterness 
over  what  he  felt  to  be  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  the  noble 
kingdom  which   he   had  wrested   from  wild  beasts  and  heathen 


'.^H 


I  111-;  SIORY  OF  IDYLLS  OK  THE   KL\0 


liordcs.  I  lien  he  roused  hlnisclt  and  sought  to  find  new  kniKhtJ 
to  take  the  places  of  his  dearest  and  hcst,  who  rode  at  random, 
meeting',  for  the  most  part,  with  nau^jht  but  distress  and  failure; 
and  ever  misfortune,  sorrow,  anil  treason  crept  nearer  to  him  who 
had  stru^^led  so  ha)-d  to  revive  in  man  the  inuKC  of  his  Maker. 
Now,  we  may  not  follow  separately  the  many  knights  who  went 
out  in  the  mad  quest  for  the  Grail,  so  we  will  content  ourselves 
with  setting  down  the  tale  as  told  by  I'ercivale,  the  Pure,  to  hi* 
fellow-monk,  Ambrosius,  in  an  abbey,  where  he  seJuded  him- 
self from  the  pomp  and  vanities  of  the  world  on  his  return  from 
a  partially  successful  search. 

"  When  I  left  my  fallows  I  was  lifted  up  in  heart,"  said  Per- 
civale,  "  and  never  yet  had  Heaven  appeared  so  blue,  or  earth  so 
gre'  1,  and  ?\\  my  blood  danced  within  me,  and  I  knew  that  I 
should  see  the  Holy  Gr.il.  But  after  a  time  my  mind  misgave 
me.  and  every  evil  thought  and  deed  of  times  gone  by  seemed  to 
ri.c  up  in  judgment  against  mc  and  repeat  Arthur's  words:  '  This 
Quest  is  not  for  thee.' 

"  Soon  I  found  myself  alone  in  a  land  of  sand  and  thorns,  and 
I  was  sore  athirst.     All  about  me  the  air  was  filled  with  mocking 
visions:  first,  I  seemed  to  see  a  stream  of  water,  clear  and  cool, 
and  goodly  apples  on  trees  hard  by;  but  when  I  drew  nigh  hop- 
ing to  eat  and  drink,  all  fell  into  dust  and  vanished.   ^  Then,  as  I 
rode  on.  home-like  visions  came  to  me,  only  to  fall  into  dust  as 
I  approached.     And  presently  a  great  warrior  in  golden  armor, 
with  a  golden  crown,  riding  on  a  war-horse  also  trapped  in  gold 
and  jewels,  came  out  to  me.;t  me  and  embrace  me  in  his  arms; 
but  as  I  drew  nigh  unto  him,  he,  too,  fell  into  dust  and  vanished, 
and  I  was  left  alone  and  weary.     Again  I  saw  a  city  set  high  upon 
a  hill,  and  by  the  walled  gateway  was  a   great  crowd,  and  they 
cried  as  in  one  mighty  voice,  '  Welcome,   Percivalc,  thou  might- 
iest and  purest  of  men!'     Eagerly  I  climbed  up,  but  found  at 
the  top  no  man  or  voice  that  answered  mc;  only  the  crumbling 
ruin  of  a  deserted  city.     And  I  cried  in  grief:      '  Lo,  if  I  f^nd 


THE  StARCH  FOR  THK  HOLY  CJRAIL      ij., 

the  Holy  Grail  itself  arul  tDUch  it,  it,  Uk),  will  crumble  into  dust.' 
"'I  hen  I  dropped  into  a  vale,  low  as  the  hill  was  hi{{h,  and 
here  found  a  holy  hermit  to  whom  I  described  my  'Mantoms,  and 
he  made  answer:  '  (),  son,  thou  lackest  the  hi^jhcst  virtue,  the 
mother  of  them  all  —  true  humility.  Thou  hast  been  full  of  pride 
and  thoughts  of  self  and  thine  own  advancement.  Thou  •  jst 
needs  have  the  mind  which  was  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  humbled  li  .m- 
sclf  that  all  should  follow  His  example.  Thou  must,  like  th ; 
smlcss  Galahad,  lose  thyself  to  save  thyself.' 

"Scarcely  had  he  finished  speaking  when  lo!  Galahrd  himself 
appeared  in  the  chapel  doorway,  ?1!  shining  in  golden  armor,  and 
we  entered  the  holy  plac.  .nd  knelt  in  prayer.  Here  the  hermit 
slacked  my  terrible  thirst,  and  then  blessed  the  sacrament  and  of- 
fered it  to  us.  I  took  the  bread  in  silence,  but  Galahad  turned 
to  me  in  amazement,  albeit  his  face  shown  with  a  wonderful 
radiance.  'Saw  ye  nothing,  Percivale?'  he  queried.  'I,  Gala- 
had, saw  the  Grail,  the  Holy  Grail,  descend  upon  the  shrine!  I 
saw  the  face  of  a  chi!>i  that  smote  itself  into  th-;  bread  .nd  went; 
and  not  now  alone,  but  always  is  the  Holy  Thing  with  me  day 
and  night.  And  by  its  blood- red  strength  I  have  conqurred  the 
heathen  everywhere,  and  broken  their  evil  ways,  and  made  ♦■heir 
realms  mine  for  the  King  and  Christ.  But  my  time  is  haid  at 
hand  when  I  shall  go  hence  and  be  crowned  King  jfar  in  the 
spiritual  city;  wherefore  arise  and  follow  me,  for  thou,  too,  shalt 
see  the  vision  when  I  go,' 

"  His  great  faith  filled  me  with  power,  and  toward  evening 
I  followed  him  with  difficulty  up  a  great,  tempest-swept  hill.  Be- 
yond it  lay  an  evil-smelling,  blackened  swamp,  whitened  here  and 
there  with  dead  men's  bones,  and  impassable  save  where  in  ancient 
times  a  king  had  built  a  causeway  of  piers  and  arches  running  out 
into  the  great  Sea.  Over  these  bridges  Galahad  sped  at  once, 
and  I  would  fain  have  followed;  but  every  arch,  as  soon  as  he 
had  crossed  it,  leapt  into  fire  and  vanished,  and  thrice  above  him 
I  heard  a   thunderous  sound  like  the  joyous  "shoutings  of  all  the 


a 


140     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

sons  of  God.  Ana  then  1  saw  him  far  away  on  the  great  Sea, 
his  armor  shining  like  a  star,  and  over  his  head  hung  the  Holy  Grail, 
veiled  in  a  luminous  cloud.  And  the  boat,  if  boat  it  were  —  I  saw 
not  whence  it  came  — sped  with  exceeding  swiftness;  and  presently 
from  the  heavens  shot  a  glorious  light  and  I  beht'.d  the  Holy 
Vessel,  shining  rose-red,  clear  and  pure,  over  his  head,  and  I  gave 
a  shout  of  joy  for  I  knew  the  veil  had  been  withdrawn.  Then 
in  the  distance  I  saw  the  spires  and  gateways  of  the  spiritual  city, 
and  beheld  Galahad  move  into  it  like  a  shooting-star.  And  then 
the  darkness  fell,  and  I  saw  no  more.  How  I  reiurned  to  the 
hermitage  I  know  not,  but  from  thence  I  rode  back  to  Camelot, 
filled  with  exceeding  joy  that  my  quest  was  over  and  that  phantoms 
would  never  vex  me  more." 

Silence  ensued  for  a  time,  each  one  busy  with  his  own  thoughts, 
until  the  old  monk  turned  to  his  companion,  with  a  sigh:  "  How 
uifferent  our  lives  have  been !  Yours  filled  with  Court  pleasantries, 
noble  quests,  n.ysteries  and  visions;  mine  with  homely  c  s  among 
my  fold  —  f(  I  know  every  honest  face  as  a  shephera  knows  his 
sheep  — days  of  quiet  prayer,  and  reading  of  monkish  books. 
But  tell  mc  this,  Percivale,  saving  this  Sir  Galahad,  came  you 
on  none  but  phantoms  in  your  quest?  " 

"  O  my  brother,"  answered  Perci-ale  sadly,  "  must  I  tell  thee 
how  far  I  faltered  ^rom  my  vow?  As  I  wandered  about,  seeking 
In  vain  for  the  Grail,  I  chanced  upon  a  goodly  town  built  round 
a  stately  palace,  where  dwelt  a  Princess  rich  and  beautiful.  I 
knocked  at  the  gates  and  asked  for  succor  in  the  name  of  our 
noble  Arthur.  Straightway  I  was  admitted  and  disarmed  by 
maidens,  h'T  as  flowers;  then  conducted  into  the  presence  of  the 
noble  Princess.  And  lol  brother,  my  very  breath  stopped,  for 
she  was  one  whom  In  my  youth  I  had  loved  with  my  whole  heart, 
and  never  since  had  maiden  stirred  my  pulse,  and  now  I  had  found 
her  again,  the  heiress  of  a  dead  man's  wealth.  My  heart  went  out 
to  her  again,  as  of  old,  and  I  saw  that  she  loved  me,  but  I  made 
no  sign,  for  I  was  poor  and  she  rich.     However,  as  I  walked  one 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  HOLY  GRAIL      141 

day  in  the  orchard,  she  stole  upon  me  and  gave  me  her  first  kiss 
and  aslted  if  I  would  wed  her.  Now,  she  was  very  dear  to  me, 
and  the  Quest  seemed  far  off,  yet  I  hesitated,  for  Arthur's  words 
came  to  me,  and  I  felt  that  this  would  be  '  following  wandering 
fires  '  indeed.  Then,  the  leading  knights  of  her  territory  came 
to  ine  and  begged  me  to  wed  with  her  and  be  their  Prince,  and 
how  near  I  was  to  yielding,  God  knoweth;  but,  brother,  one  night 
my  vow  flared  up  and  burned  within  me,  and  I  rose  and  fled  from 
temptation,  yet,  as  I  went,  I  wept  and  wailed  and  hated  myself 
and  the  Holy  Grail  and  all  things  save  her,  my  beautiful  Princess, 
But  soon  after  this  I  came  to  the  hermit's  hut  and  met  Galahad, 
and  thereafter  cared  no  more  for  her,  or  anything  else  on  earth." 
"  O,  brother,  the  pity  of  it!  "  exclaimed  Ambrosius.  "  To  find 
thine  own  first  love  again,  all  but  hold  her  a  bride  within  thine 
arms,  and  then  to  cast  her  aside  like  a  weed!  But  I  sympathize 
with  w'^it  I  know  not,  for  earthly  love  has  never  yet  come  nigh 
me.  S  .d,  brother,  I  am  glad  that  you  have  come  hither,  for  hope 
springs  alive  in  my  breast  that  now,  at  last,  I  have  found  a  true 
triend.  But  stay,  Percivale,  saw  you  none  of  your  own  knight- 
hood as  you  wandered?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Percivale,  "  one  night  I  met  Sir  Bors,  the 
cousin  of  Lancelot,  and  most  joyful  was  our  meeting.  Eagerly 
we  questioned  each  other  concerning  the  Quest,  and  among  the  first 
things  I  asked  him  was:  'Have  you  seen  aught  of  Lancelot?' 
'  Aye,'  answered  Bors  sadly.  '  He  dashed  past  me  once  in  the 
fever  of  madness  and  maddening  what  he  rode.  Why  ridest 
thou  so  hotly  on  a  holy  Quest? '  I  shouted.  '  Stay  me  not! '  was 
the  answer.  '  I  have  played  the  sluggard,  and  now  I  ride  apace, 
for  th'^re  is  a  lion  in  the  way,'  and  so  he  vanished,  and  I  am  sore 
grieved  aat  Heaven  hath  plagued  him  thus.  You  see,  brother, 
Bors  LvL-d  Lancelot  faithfully,  and  said  he  would  be  content  to 
give  up  the  Quest,  if  by  so  doing  he  could  help  Lancelot  to  see  the 
Holy  Grail. 

*'  Then  he  told  me  how,  in  his  wanderings,  he  had  fallen  Into 


142     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  RliNG 

the  hands  of  a  pagan  people,  who  worshiped  the  sun,  moon,  and 
stars,  and  when  he  told  them  of  the  blessed  Christ  and  his  Quest, 
they  mocked  him  and  made  him  a  prisoner.  For  many  days  he 
lay  in  a  foul,  underground  dungeon  until  by  a  miracle  —  what 
else?  —  a  great,  heavy  stone,  such  as  no  wind  could  move,  slipped 
and  fell,  letting  in  a  rush  of  sweet,  fresh  air.  As  he  lay  gazing 
out  upon  the  starlit  night,  the  beautiful  rose-red  Grail  stole  past 
him  on  a  beam  of  light,  followed  by  a  deafening  peal  of  thunder. 
Then  a  maiden  ot  his  own  faith,  who  worshiped  in  secret  among 
the  Pagan  herd,  came  to  him  stealthily  and  loosening  his  bonds, 
aided  him  to  escape." 

"  Aye,"  cried  Ambros=us,  "  I  know  the  knight  of  whom  you  speak  1 
He  chanced  this  W2y,  and  surely  it  was  the  same  man.  Forsooth,  he 
gave  the  nr'.nie  of  Bors;  a  shining  pelican  was  engraved  upon  his 
helm,  and  he  seemed  a  reverent,  square-set,  honest  man,  with  eyes 
a-kindle  and  a  warm  smile,  half  shrouded  in  sadness,  upon  his  lips. 
But  saw  you  no  knight  but  Bors?  And  when  you  reached  Came- 
lot  what  befell  you  there?  Were  all  the  knights  returned,  or 
had  there  been  truth  in  Arthur's  prophecy?  And  what  said  the 
knights,  and  what  replied  the  King?" 

"  One  question  at  a  time,  brother,"  answered  Percivale,  smiling 
at  the  monk's  eagerness,  "  else  I  shall  not  be  able  to  satisfy  thee. 
The  good  Bors  and  I  journeyed  back  together,  and  all  along  the 
way  were  striking  evidences  of  the  trouble  and  ruin  that  had  de- 
scended upon  Arthur's  once  orderly  realm.  Here  and  there  grand 
castles  were  fallen  into  decay  and  peopled  with  ghosts  and  phan- 
toms; we  met  no  gaily  decked,  smiling  knights,  and  our  horses 
slipped  and  stumbled  desperately  over  carcasses  of  hornless  unicorns 
and  once  noble  talbots,  while  all  about  the  bones  of  the  deadly 
basilisk  and  the  hated  cockatrice  lay  bleaching  in  the  sun. 

"  We  found  our  beloved  King  seated  upon  the  throne  in 
his  lonely  hall,  and  before  him  stood  only  one-tenth  of  those  who 
had  gone  forth  so  joyously  on  the  Quest,  and  they  were  worn  and 
wasted.     Most   kindly   did   our   King   welcome   me  —  for    I    had 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  HOLY  GRAIL      143 

ever  been  a  favorite  with  him  —  saying  that  they  had  greatly 
feared  I  had  been  destroyed  in  the  late  fierce  storm  which  had 
made  sad  havoc  all  about,  and  inquiring  sadly  if  I  had  seen  the 
Holy  Cup  that  Joseph  of  old  had  brought  to  Glastonbury. 

"  Then,  when  I  had  told  him  all  that  thou  hast  heard  and  of 
my  decision  to  spend  my  life  in  prayer  in  the  seclusion  of  a  monastery 
he  answered  me  never  a  word,  but  turned  sharply  to  his  nephew, 
the  courteous  Gawain,  saying,  'Gawain,  was  the  Quest  for  such 
I."  thee?  '  '  Nay,  my  lord,'  answered  Gawain  softly,  '  neither  did  I 
pursue  it  long,  for  I  met  a  holy  man  who  showed  me  plainly  that 
it  was  not.  Therefore,  I  gave  myself  to  making  merry  in  joyous 
company,  and  spent  my  twelvemonth  and  a  day  right  pleasantly.' 

"  The  King  now  caught  sight  of  Bors,  where  he  stood  by  Lance- 
lot's side,  and  hailed  him  cordially:  'All  hail.  Sir  Bors!  Thou, 
I  know,  hast  seeu  the  Grail,  if  ever  it  could  be  seen  by  loyal  man 
and  true.'  '  Yes,  my  King,'  answered  Bors  simply,  '  but  ask  me 
no  more,  for  I  cannot  speak  of  it.'  And  I  saw  that  he  had  clasped 
Lancelot's  hand  tightly,  and  that  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears, 
in  grief  and  sympathy  for  his  beloved  kinsman. 

"  Arthur  then  called  upon  others  of  the  sorry  company,  but 
each  and  all  spoke  of  naught  but  perils  by  flood  and  field,  rill  only 
Lancelot  remained,  for  the  King  had  kept  his  mightiest  till  the 
last.  '  O  Lancelot,  my  friend,'  he  said,  '  our  mightiest,  hast  thou 
achieved  the  Quest?' — 'Alas,  King,'  groaned  Lancelot  sorrow- 
fully, '  Arthur,  my  friend,  if  indeed  I  be  a  friend  of  thine,  and 
mightiest,  methinks  those  are  happier  who  welter  in  their  sins  like 
swine  in  the  mud,  sunk  so  low  they  cannot  see  their  own  shame ! 
For  in  me  evil  and  good  strove  together  for  the  mastery,  and  the 
pure  and  knightly  seemed  the  very  stock  round  which  the  evil  twined 
and  grew,  till  neither  could  scarce  be  discerned;  so  that,  when  the 
knights  swore  together  to  find  the  Grail,  I  swore  with  them,  hop- 
ing that  if  I  might  touch  or  see  the  Holy  Thing  I  might  pluck 
the  two  asunder,  and  cast  out  the  evil.  I  went  to  a  holy  saint, 
and  he  wept  and  told  me  that  unless  I  could  separate  the  two,  the 


m 


I 


144     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

Quest  itself  was  not  for  me.     So  I  wrestled  in  prayer  as  he  directed 
me,  and  even  while  I  prayed  my  madness  came  again  upon  me, 
and  drove  me  into  the  deep  wilderness.     Here  I  became  the  sport 
of  little  men  who  once  had  fled  at  the  mere  shadow  of  my  sword. 
Fleeing  from  them,  I  came  to  the  wild  sea-shore,  and  there  found 
a  boat  tossing  among  the  dank  grasses.     And  all  the  sea  was  lashed 
with  foam,  and  drove  like  a  cataract  against  the  sand,  and  a  wdd 
thought  came  to  me  that,  perchance,  I  might  embark  and  lose  my- 
self in  the  seething  waters,  and  thus  wash  away  my  sm  in  the  great 
Sea.     No  sooner  thought  than  done;  I  burst  the  chains,  and  sprang 
into  the  boat,  and  so  for  seven  days  I  drifted  along  the  dreary  deep. 
Then,  on  the  seventh  night,  when  I  lay  well-nigh  distraught  for 
want  of  food  and  drink,  I  felt  the  boat  strike  sand  and  come  to 
anchor,   and   I   alighted  near  the   enchanted   castle   of   Carbonek. 
Steps  led  from  the  sea  up  to  the  great  er  ranee  v/zv,  but  on  either 
side  of  the  gate  a  huge  lion  stood  on  guard.     However,  I  was 
determined  to  enter,  and  so,  grasping  my  sword  firmly,  I  sprang 
toward  them.     Like  a  flash  they  reared  themselves  on  their  hind 
legs   and  gripped  nisi  by  the  shoulders,   one  on  either  side;  but 
before  I  could  smite  them,  a  voice  cried:     "  Doubt  not,  go  for- 
ward; if  thou  doubtest,  the  beasts  will  tear  thee  piecemeal."     My 
sword  was  then  dashed  violently  to  the  ground,  and  I  passed  on 
into  the  empty  castle  hall,   flooded  with  moonlight  from  a  high 
window  that  looked  upon  the  sea.     And  all  through  the  quiet  house 
sounded  a  sweet  voice,  dear  as  a  lark's,  that  seemed  to  be  sing- 
ing In  the  topmost  eastern  tower, —  a  voice  beautiful  as  an  angel's, 
and  it  drew  me  toward  it.     Half  in  a  dream,  I  climbed  more  than 
a  thousand  steps,  and  finally  came  to  a  d  -or,  through  which  showed 
chinks  of  Hght,  and  heard  the  voice  chanting:     "Glory  and  joy 
and  honor  to  our  Lord,  and  to  the  Holy   Vessel  of  the  Grail." 
Here  I  was  perhaps  at  the  end  of  my  Quest !     In  eager  frenzy 
I  beat  upon  the  door  and  it  gave  way  beneath  my  hands,  then  such 
a  blast  of  light  and  heat,  as  though  seven  times  heated  in  a  furnace, 
smote  upon  me  that  I  fell  blinded  and  well-nigh  senseless.     As  I 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  HOLY  GRAU.      145 

lay  blinking  and  gasping,  methought  I  saw  the  Holy  Grail, 
shrouded  in  crimson  samite,  and  around  it  great  angel-shapes,  with 
wings  and  shining  eyes.  And  indeed,  but  for  my  madness  and 
my  sin,  and  then  my  swooning  away,  I  would  have  sworn  that  I 
saw  it  in  very  truth;  but  what  I  saw  was  veiled  and  covered,  and 
so  this  Quest  was  not  for  me.' 

"There  was  silence  in  the  hall  for  several  minutes  after  Lance- 
lot ceased  speaking  and  each  knight  stood  with  bowed  head.  Then 
Gawain,  encouraged  by  the  silence  of  the  King,  burst  out  recklessly 
and  irreverently  in  his  usual  mad  fashion:  'Truly,  friend  Perci- 
vale,  this  mad  quest  of  thine  and  thy  holy  nun's  hath  driven  men 
mad,  even  our  mightiest  knight  of  all.  Never  have  /  failed  thee, 
Kmg,  in  any  quest  of  thine,  nor  shall  I ;  but  herewith  I  swear  for- 
cvermore  to  be  deafer  than  the  blue-eyed  cat  and  thrice  as  blind 
as  any  noonday  owl  to  all  holy  virgins  and  their  religious  ecstasies.' 

"And  the  King  made  answer  sternly:  'Gawain,  thou  art  al- 
ready too  blind  and  deaf  to  have  desire  either  to  see  or  hear;  no 
need  to  make  thy  denseness  greater  by  idle  vows.  But  if,  indeed, 
there  came  a  sign  from  Heaven,  blessed  are  Bors,  Percivale,  and 
Lancelot,  for  each  has  seen  according  as  it  was  granted  to  each  of 
them  to  sec.  And  Lancelot,  my  friend,  thou  errtst  in  saying  that 
the  good  and  evil  had  so  grown  together  in  thy  heart  that  they 
could  not  be  dissevered;  be  sure  that  apart  from  thy  sin,  whatever 
it  may  be,  there  grows  some  root  of  nobleness.  See  to  it,  my 
friend,  that  the  plant  may  bear  its  flower.' 

"  Then  the  noble  Arthur  turned  to  the  wretched,  withered  hand- 
ful of  men,  all  that  remained  cf  his  noble  Order  of  the  Round 
Table,  once  the  very  flower  of  the  realm,  and  addressed  them  in 
a  quivering  voice:  '  O  my  knights,  was  I  too  dark  a  prophet  when 
I  foretold  that  most  of  those  who  went  forth  upon  the  Quest  would 
follow  wandering  fires,  and  be  lost  in  the  quagmire  of  doubt  and 
empty  dreams?  Surely  not,  for  scarce  a  tenth  of  those  who  set 
forth  in  such  mad  eagerness  have  returned  And  out  of  those  to 
whom  the   /ision  came,  Lancelot,  our  greatest,  will  scarce  believe 


,    ^ 


146     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

he  saw;  another  hath  beheld  the  Holy  Thing  afar  off,  and  is  con- 
tent to  leave   human  wrongs  to  right  themselves,   and  cares   for 
naught  but  to  pass  his  life  in  silent  prayer;  and  Galahad,  who  alone 
has  seen  the  vision  face  to  face,  his  chair  is  empty,  and  he  comes 
here  no  more;  however,  they  may  crown  him  victor  in  the  spiritual 
city.     O  my  knights,  spake  I  not  truly  when  I  said  the  Quest  was 
not  for  such  as  ye,  and  that  our  noble  Order  would  f^nly  be  sacrificed 
in  vain?     And  some  there  were  among  ye  who  thought  that  if  I, 
the  King,  had  seen  the  Vision,  I  myself  would  have  sworn  the  vow. 
But,  my  knights,  do  you  not  know  that  such  could  not  have  hap- 
pened ea.ily,  for  it  is  the  King's  quest  to  do  the  duty  set  before  him 
in  the  land  he  rules?     He  is  like  a  tiller  of  the  soil  to  whom  is 
allotted  a  portion  of  a  field  to  plow,  nor  must  he  leave  it  till  his 
work  is  done.     Do  not  think,  my  knights,  that  I,  the  King,  have 
no  visions  come  to  me?     Nay!  many  a  time  they  come,  by  night 
and  by  day,  until  sometimes  I  scarce  know  whether  this  earth  I 
tread  be  earth  at  all,  or  the  air  I  breathe  be  air  or  vision,  but  still 
through  all  I  feel  the  strength  of  my  purpose  to  serve  my  God  and 
Saviour,   and  then,  when  the  vision  is  at  its  highest,   I   know   I 
shall  never  die,  but  live  always.     And  so,  my  friends,  I  have  my 
visions,  and  you  have  yours.     And  what  we  have  seen,  we  have 

seen. 

So  saying,  the  King  turned  away,  and  all  that  he  meant  none 
could  tell.  Only  it  seemed  that  he  meant  to  show  us  that  the 
truest  servant  of  God  is  he  who,  like  himself,  followed  not  after 
any  great  quest,  but  stayed  faithfully  at  home  and  looked  after 
the  duties  God  had  given  him. 


CHAPTER  X 


GUINEVERE 


KING  ARTHUR  at  once  raised  to  knighthood  men  to  fill  the 
places  niaiio  vacant  in  his  noble  Order  by  those  who  had  lost 
their  lives  in  the  vain  search  for  the  Grail,  and  for  a  time 
everything  seemed  as  well  as  at  the  beginning.  The  knights  jousted 
and  tourneyed  as  before,  they  hawked  and  hunted,  and  every  now 
and  then  rode  forth  and  assailed  the  heathen  who  frequently  broke 
over  their  borders;  but,  though  mighty  deeds  were  still  done,  and 
brave  hearts  still  worshiped  and  honored  the  King,  there  was  yet 
the  old  evil  at  work,  spreading  its  poisonous  growth  throughout 
the  land. 

7  he  new  knights  were  not  the  old,  and  soon  faltered  in  their 
loyalty  to  the  King.  They  were  easily  influenced  by  evil  doings, 
and  the  King  had  many  enemies  at  Court,  chief  among  them  being 
his  nephew,  Modred,  brother  to  the  flighty  Gawain,  to  the  noble 
Gareth,  and  son  of  Lot  and  Bellicent.  hese  evil  followers  ex- 
cused themselves  by  saying  that  the  Kin),  expected  too  much  of 
them,  but  it  was  not  so,  for  the  King's  character  was  not  too  lofty 
a  standard  for  any  man  who  wished  to  be  "  a  stainless  gentleman." 
And  many  grew  quickly  tired  of  their  knighthood  vows;  others 
waged  long  and  bitter  war  with  the  evil  in  their  hearts,  only  to 
fail  at  last;  and  very  few  followed  the  King  to  the  end,  faithful 
even  unto  death. 

Sir  Lancelot's  wrestlings  and  struggles  to  uproot  his  sin  died 
away  with  the  vision  of  the  Grail.  He  forgot  all  about  the  her- 
mit's advice  and  the  wise  counsel  of  the  King  on  his  return,  and 
became  once  more  the  Queen's  most  willing  slave.  All  men  knew 
it,  save  the  King,  for  no  one  dared  tell  him  of  the  treachery,  and 

H7 


148     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

he  loved  and  trusted  Lancelot  as  of  old.  However,  a  time  came 
when  the  thing  could  no  longer  be  hidden,  and  it  happened  in 
this  wise : 

Day  by  day  Queen  Guinevere  came  more  and  more  to  fear  Sir 
Modred's  fawning  smile  and  mocking,  persistent,  gray  eyes.  She 
knew  him  for  the  cruel,  ambitious  man  he  was,  and  knew  also  that 
he  hated  her  and  Lancelot,  and  most  of  all  the  King,  and  that  he 
would  stop  at  nothing  to  gain  his  desire  —  the  throne  of  Camelot. 
She  knew,  too,  that  he  spied  upon  her,  and  she  feared  th^  one  day 
he  would  track  her  guilt  and  proclaim  it  abroad  to  all  men,  and 
thus  shame  her  forever.  So  great  became  her  fear  that  she  could 
not  sleep  at  night,  and  started  with  alarm  at  every  shadow  that 
crossed  her  path.  Then  she  begged  Lancelot,  saying:  "O 
Lancelot,  if  thou  lovest  me,  go  away  to  thine  own  land.  I  fear  to 
have  thee  here,  and  to  meet  thee.  Go  away,  I  pray  thee,  until 
this  smoldering  scandal  has  had  time  to  die  away  in  ashes.  Go, 
Lancelot,  else  the  wily  Modred  will  rake  all  forth  into  a  blaze 
before  the  people  and  our  lord,  the  King." 

And  Lancelot,  ever  willing  to  do  her  least  wish,  consented  re- 
luctantly. Therefore,  they  set  a  night  when  they  knew  the  good 
King  would  be  absent,  to  meet  and  bid  farewell  forever.  Now 
Modred  heard  of  this  in  some  way,  and  laid  his  plans  to  entrap 
them.  As  Lancelot  and  Guinevere  sat  upon  the  Queen's  couch 
in  her  boudoir,  hand  clasping  hand,  passion-pale  in  a  very  madness 
of  farewell:,  there  came  a  triumphant  shout,  and  Modred's  voice, 
crying:  "Come  out,  traitor,  you  are  trapped  at  last."  Then 
Lancelot  rushed  forth  with  a  roar  like  a  wounded  lion,  and  leaping 
upon  Modred  hurled  him  head  foremost  down  the  tower  stairs, 
where  he  fell  in  a  heap  among  his  comrades,  whom  he  had  stationed 
It  the  foot  for  witnesses. 

"  Alas!  "  sobbed  the  Queen,  "  now  no  sacrifice  will  avail.  The 
end  is  come,  and  I  am  shamed  forever.'" 

"  Nay,"  said  Lancelot,  soothingly,  striving  to  comfort  her,  "  mine 
be  the  shame,  for  mine  was  the  sin.     Hut  rise  and  come  away  with 


GUINEVERE 


149 


mc  to  my  strong  castle  over  the  sea.     There  will  I  hide  thee  and 
protect  thee  from  all  the  world,  till  my  life  shall  end." 

"  No,  Lancelot,"  returned  the  Queen  sorrowfully.  "  All  is  at 
an  end,  we  have  taken  our  farewells.  Would  to  God  we  had  taken 
them  sooner,  and  that  I  might  hide  from  myself  1  Say  no  more, 
for  mine  is  the  shame ;  I  was  a  wife,  but  thou  art  unwedded.  Please 
Heaven  you  had  wedded  the  lily  maid  of  Astolat  and  departed  moons 
ago!  But  I  must  fly  ere  my  lord  Arthur  returns,  for  great  will 
be  his  just  anger.  I  shall  get  me  secretly  into  the  convent  at  Alms- 
bury,  and  there  give  myself  to  a  life  of  prayer,  hoping  to  recc  ve, 
if  possible,  relief  from  the  pain  and  shame  that  suffocate  me. 
And  I  charge  thee  tell  no  man  of  my  whereabouts." 

So  in  the  silence  of  the  night  the  humbled  Queen  stole  aw  ly  to 
the  Almsbury  sanctuary,  and  Lancelot  fled  with  all  speed  to  his 
own  land,  and  the  courtiers,  not  knowing,  thought  that  they  had 
flown  together.  Loosed  were  all  the  tongues  of  the  Court  and 
talk  ran  high,  but  not  one  of  the  scandal-mongers  had  courage  to 
tell  the  noble  King  when  he  returned  toward  morning,  wearied 
out  with  an  unfruitful  quest.  Quickly  they  bethought  themselves 
of  the  lateness  of  the  hour  and  scurried  silently  away  to  their 
chambers. 

Slowly  Arthur  climbed  the  stairs,  chilled  to  the  bone  with  death- 
dumb,  autumn-dripping  gloom,  and  a  nameless  horror  fell  upon 
him,  some  great,  over-hanging  evil,  which  smote  him  three-fold  as 
he  noted  with  dismay  that  his  beloved  Queen's  bower  was  dark  as 
the  night  around.  Then  a  form  pressed  close  to  him  and  clung 
sobbing  at  his  feet,  and  when  he  questioned  "What  art  thou?"  it 
faltered  forth:  "  Alas,  I  am  Dagonet,  thy  fool,  and  I  shall  never 
make  thee  smile  again." 

It  was  but  too  true.  Dagonet,  the  merry  court-jester,  he  who 
was  wont  to  provoke  the  smiles  of  the  weary  and  way-worn,  was 
at  heart  a  sorrowing,  disappointed  man,  and  he  felt  keenly  how 
deeply  the  thrust  of  unfaithfulness  from  wife  and  trusted  friend 
would  probe  into  his  master's  noble  heart.     In  a  moment,  the  ter- 


1 


^n 


\ 


150     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THK  KING 

riblc  truth  flashed  upon  the  King,  and  he  saw  as  though  bla/cd  in 
fire  all  that  he  had  lately  tried  not  to  believe,  for  some  of  the 
whispers  had  occasionally  reached  his  ear.  With  a  low  moan  he 
turned  heart-brokenly  and  bowed  his  head  against  the  cold,  silent 
wall,  well-nigh  bereft  of  reason  that  the  two  to  whom  he  had  given 
all  of  his  mighty  love,  with  whom  he  had  exchanged  vows  of  faith- 
fulness unto  death,  should  thus  prove  false  to  him  and  to  their  (iod; 
nor  did  he  give  the  slightest  ear  to  the  efforts  at  comfort  which 
Dagonet,  the  jester,  the  least  of  all  his  knights,  and  yet  the  only 
one  brave  enough  to  come  to  him  in  his  great  trouble,  essayci  to 
give  him. 

Meanwhile,  Queen  Guinevere,  at  the  convent  gates,  tca..ully 
pleaded  for  admission:  "Mine  enemies  pursue  me.  O  peaceful 
sisterhood,  I  pray  ye  to  receive  me  into  your  fold  mat  I  may  spend 
my  life  in  prayer  and  pleading,  for  my  sins  are  many  aid  most  bit- 
terly do  I  repent." 

Wrought  upon  by  her  grace  and  beauty,  the  gentle  nuns  con- 
sented, and  at  her  request  even  forbore  to  ask  her  name.  S  i  for 
many  weeks  the  Queen  dwelt  among  them  unknown,  wrapped  in 
grief,  and  communing  only  with  a  little  maid,  who,  pleased  by  the 
strange  lady's  great  beauty  and  pleasing  manner,  loved  ever  to 
hover  near  and  wait  upon  her.  But  even  in  the  quiet  peaefulness 
of  the  convent  the  Queen  did  not  find  the  oblivion  and  forgetful- 
ness  of  the  world  which  she  sought;  forever  and  anon  there  floated 
through  the  sanctuary  bits  of  news  from  the  outside  world,  which 
the  little  maid  loved  to  babble.  First,  after  she  had  been  there 
but  a  few  days,  the  news  came  that  the  King  was  waging  war 
against  Lancelot  in  the  fastness  of  his  strong  tower;  then,  and  the 
Queen's  very  soul  writhed  within  her,  the  cry  was  waged  that  while 
the  King  was  absent.  Sir  Modred  had  leagued  himself  with  the 
heathen  and  usurped  the  throne. 

"  Woe  is  me!  "  moaned  the  Queen  to  herself.  "  With  what  a 
hate  the  people  and  the  King  must  hate  me!  'Tis  all  mv  fault. 
Had  I  been  the  true  queen  that  Arthur  thought  me  —  aye!  and 


GUINEVERK 


151 


deserved  —  then  rn'Rht  the  noble  Op'er  of  the  Round  Tabic  still 
be  bright  and  flourishing,  and  Koodncs>,  purity,  and  beauty  be 
reigning  abroad  in  all  the  land!  Peace  be  to  my  soul  that  knew 
not,  or  cared  not,  to  distinguish  the  false  from  the  true  I  O  my 
ma' Jen,"  turning  besecchingi/  to  the  girl  loitering  near,  "sing,  I 
pray  thee,  something  sad  and  sweet  enough  to  unlock  the  sorrow 
that  grips  my  heart.  Sing,  that  the  tears  may  come  and  cool  my 
burning  brain  ere  I  go  mad  indeed  I  " 

And  the  little  maid,  half  frl^'htened  by  the  wild  words  and  man- 
ner  of  her  beloved  lady,  lifted  up  her  swtct  voice  and  sang: 

"Late,  late,  so  late!  and  dark  the  night  and  chilli 
Late,   late,  so  late!   bi.     we  can  enter  still. 
Too  late,  ti      late!  ye  cannot  enter  now. 

"No  ligl,'-  had  we;  for  that  we  do  repent. 
And  learning  this,   the  bridegroom  will  relent. 
Too  late,  too  late!  ye  cannot  enter  now. 

"  No  light!  so  late!  and  dark  and  Jiill  the  night! 
O,  let  us  in,  that  we  may  find  the  light! 
Too  late,  too  late!  ye  unnot  enter  no  v. 

"  Ha\     we  not  heard  the  bridegroom  is  so  sweet? 
O,  let  us  in,  tho'  late,  to  kiss  his  feet! 
No,  no,  too  late!  ye  cannot  enter  now." 


Memories  fraught  with  the  sweetness  that  might  have  been. 
concerning  the  time  when  first  she  came  a  bride  to  Camelot,  pressed 
upon  the  Queen,  and  she  bowed  her  head  low  upon  her  hands  and 
shook  with  passionate,  remorseful  sobs. 

"  Oh,  I  pra  you,  noble  lady,"  cried  the  maiden,  ceasing  her  song 
abrupi./,  r-iore  alarmed  than  ever,  "  weep  no  more.  Let  my  words 
comfort  \  -ur  sorrows,  for  they  do  not  flow  from  evil  done;  right 
sure  am  I  of  that,  seeing  your  tender  grace  and  stateliness.  Weigh 
your  sorrows  with  the  King's,  my  lady,  and  sec  how  much  less  they 


152     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  'mL  KING 

be,  for  gone  is  he  to  wa^c  grim  'vur  aKainst  Sir  Lancelot  in 
his  strong  castle  by  the  sea  where  he  holds  our  guilty  Queen;  and 
Modred,  whom  he  left  in  thar^e  of  all,  his  own  nephew,  has  turned 
traitor.  O  sweet  lady,  the  King's  grief  for  his  own  self,  and  hi» 
own  Queen  and  realm  must  needs  be  thrice  as  great  as  any  grief  of 
ours!  Think,  no  matter  how  much  he  may  desire  to  weep  in 
silence,  as  wc  do  here  in  quiet  Almsbury,  he  cannot,  for  he  is  Kmg, 
and  all  the  world  knows  his  grief  and  shame.  He  could  not  veil 
his  Queen's  wickedness  if  he  would." 

"Sweet  Heaven!"  thought  the  Queen,  "will  the  child  kill  me 
with  her  innocent  talk?"  But  aloud  she  answered,  "  Must  not  L 
if  the  false  traitor  has  displeased  his  lord,  grieve  in  common  with 
all  his  realm?  " 

"  Yea,"  replied  the  maiden  sadly.  "  It  is  a  grief  for  all  women 
that  she  is  a  woman,  whose  disloyal  life  hath  wrought  confusion  in 
the  Round  Table  which  good  King  Arthur  founded  long  years  ago, 
with  signs  and  miracles  and  wonders,  at  Camelot,  ere  the  Queen 

came." 

The  Queen  writhed  in  anguish,  as  one  upon  a  rack,  and  queried 
bitterly :  "  O  little  maid,  shut  in  by  nunnery  walls,  what  canst  thou 
know  of  kings  and  Round  Tables,  of  signs  and  wonders,  except 
it  be  the  signs  and  simple  miracles  of  the  sanctuary?  " 

"  O  my  lady,"  answered  the  girl  quickly,  "  I  have  not  always 
lived  here.  My  father  wa?  a  friend  of  Arthur  and  rode  to  Came- 
lot from  Lyones^e  to  be  knighted  at  the  founding  of  the  Order. 
He  told  me  many  wonderful  things,  for  in  those  days  the  land  was 
full  of  signs  and  miracles  straight  from  Heaven.  He  said  that 
when  he  reached  the  turning,  an  hour,  or  perhaps  two,  after  sun- 
set, he  looked  back  in  farewell  along  the  coast  toward  Lyonesse  and 
saw  white-clad  spirits  spring  forth,  with  beacon-stars  upon  their 
heads  and  wild  sea-light  about  their  feet,  until  all  the  headlands 
shone  in  flame  like  the  rich  heart  of  the  west.  And  in  the  light  the 
white  mermaiden  swam,  and  strong  man-breasted  things  stood  from 
the  sea,  and  sent  a  deep  sea-voice  through  all  the  land,  to  which  the 


GUINKVKRE 


'S3 


echoes  made  answer  like  a  distant  sounding  horn.  And  further- 
more,  the  next  morning,  as  he  passed  through  dim-lit  woods,  he 
beheld  three  spirits  mad  with  joy  come  dashing  down  on  a  tall  way- 
side Howcr,  that  shook  beneath  their  weight  as  a  thiscle  shakes  when 
three  gray  linnets  wrangle  for  the  seed.  And  in  the  evenings,  the 
flickering  fairy  circle  wheeled  and  broke  in  front  of  him,  then  flew 
and  linked  and  broke  again,  and  ever  spcil  before  him.  And  when 
at  last  he  arrived  at  Camelot,  a  wreath  of  airy  dancers  hand  in  hand 
swung  round  the  lighted  lantern  in  the  hall;  and  there  was  spread 
such  a  feast  as  never  man  hr.d  dreamed;  for  every  knight  was 
served  with  what  he  longed  for  most  by  hands  unseen,  and  down  in 
the  cellars  merry  bloated  things  shouldered  the  spigot  while  the 
wine  ran  high.  This  you  sec  was  Arthur's  realm,  my  lady,  before 
the  coming  of  the  sinful  Queen." 

"  Aye,"  said  the  Queen,  still  bitterly,  "  if  they  were  all  so  happy, 
and  the  land  so  full  of  signs,  why  was  not  some  miracle  shown  fore- 
telling the  doom  in  store  if  Guinevere  came  into  the  land?  Why 
did  not  thy  wise  father,  who  was  so  apt  in  reading  signs,  foresee 
this?" 

"  O  my  lady,"  exclaimed  the  girl  softly,  "  such  wisdom  was  far 
beyond  my  gentle  father.  But  there  was  one,  a  bard,  well-skilled 
in  making  songs,  who  sang  before  the  knights  a  glorious  song  of 
Arthur's  wars,  picturing  the  King  as  more  than  man,  and  railing 
at  those  who  called  him  the  false  son  of  Gorlols. —  For  no  man 
knows,  my  lady,  from  whence  Arthur  came.  He  was  found  one 
morning,  after  a  great  tempest,  a  naked  child  upon  the  sands  of 
dark  Tintagil  by  the  Cornish  sea.  And  they  fostered  him,  and  he 
grew  up,  and  was  proven  the  true  King  by  a  miracle,  and  so 
crowned. —  The  bard  wove  in  all  of  this,  my  lady,  and  said  that 
the  King's  grave,  like  his  birth,  should  be  a  mystery  from  all  men. 
Furthermore,  he  said  that  if  the  King  could  find  a  woman  as  great 
in  her  womanhood  as  he  was  In  his  manhood,  they  two  might  change 
the  world.  Then,  in  the  midst  of  his  song,  he  faltered  and  turned 
pale  and  wtll-nigh  swooned  away,  and  when  he  was   recovered 


I 


I 


154     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

would  sing  no  more,  neither  would  he  tell  to  any  one  his  vision  — 
but,  can  you  doubt,  my  lady,  that  he  did  not  foresee  the  evil  work 
of  Lancelot  and  th    Queen?  " 

"Lo!"  thoucht  the  Queen  miserably,  "our  simple-seeming 
abbess  and  the  nuns  have  found  me  out,  and  have  sent  this  maiden 
to  play  upon  me."     Whereat  she  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands  and 

spoke  no  more. 

"  Ah,  sweet  lady,  '  murmured  the  ir.aiden,  breaking  the  silence, 
for  to  her,  silence  was  made  only  to  be  broken,  "  have  I  vexed  thee 
with  my  garrulous  talk?  If  so,  bid  me  be  silent;  for  I  Jo  not 
wish  to  be  a  prattler  and  vex  my  father's  memory  —  my  father  who 
was  ever  the  noblest  in  manners,  though  indeed  he  would  have  it 
that  Sir  Lancelot's  was  the  nobler.  Pray  check  me,  lady,  if  I  ask 
amiss,  but  when  you  Tioved  at  Court  —  for  I  know  by  your  grace 
and  beauty  you  must  sometir  e  have  dwelt  in  the  halls  of  Arthur 

which  was  the  noblest,  Lancelot  or  our  lord  the  King?  " 

Whiter,  if  possible,  than  before  grew  the  Queen's  sad  face,  but 
she  made  answer  composedly:  "  Sir  Lancelot,  as  became  a  noble 
knight,  was  gracious  to  all  ladies,  and  in  open  battle  or  in  the 
tourney-field  always  forebore  to  press  his  own  advantage;  and  the 
King  also  did  the  same,  and  these  two  were  the  most  noble  man- 
nered  men  of  all;  for  manners  are  not  Mlc,  but  the  fruit  of  loyal 
nature  and  of  noble  mind." 

"  If  so,"  observed  the  maiden  musingly,  "  then  Lancelot  must  in 
truth  be  a  thousand-fold  less  noble  than  his  King,  for,  as  rumor  has 
it,  he  is  the  most  disloyal  friend  in  all  the  w  irld." 

' "  Aye,  maiden,"  replied  the  Queen  mournfully,  "  closed  about  by 
narrowing  nunnery  walls,  thou  knowest  little  of  the  world's  lights 
and  shadows,  or  of  its  wealth  and  woes.  If  ever  Lancelot,  that 
most  noble  knight,  were  for  one  hour  ''fss  noble  than  himself,  pray 
for  him  that  he  escapes  the  doom  of  fire,  and  weep  for  her  who  drew 

him  to  his  doom." 

"  I  do  indeed  pray  for  both,  sweet  lady,"  answered  the  novice 
earnestly.     "  But  I  could  as  soon  believe  Sir  Lancelot  as  noble  as 


^1 


GUINEVERE 


IS5 


his  King  as  that  you,  my  lady,  could  be  as  sinful  as  the  hiding 
Queen." 

So,  like  many  another  babbler,  the  maiden  hurt  where  she  would 
soothe,  and  harmed  where  she  would  heal.  But  her  last  words 
proved  a  straw  too  many,  and  the  Queen's  anger  broke  beneath 
the  load. 

"  Traitress!  "  stormed  Guinevere,  with  flushing  face  and  stamp- 
ing foot.  "  Petty  spy  I  Tool,  set  upon  to  plague  and  harry  me! 
May  such  as  thou  become  even  as  the  Queen.     Get  thee  hence !  " 

The  last  words  roused  the  frightened  maiden,  who  stood  before 
the  Queen  white  as  her  veil  and  as  tremulous  as  foam  upon  the 
windy  beach,  and  she  turned  and  fled  as  tliough  pursued  by 
phantoms. 

Then  Guinevere  sank  back  upcn  her  couch,  hiding  her  face  In 
her  hands,  her  anger  gone,  saying  to  herself  reproachfully:  "  The 
poor  child  meam  nothing,  but  my  own  too  fearful  guilt  betrays 
itself.  Heaven  help  me,  for  surely  I  repent!  And  what  is  true 
repentance  but  in  thought  —  never  again  to  think  of  the  things  that 
made  the  past  so  pleasant?  And  I  have  sworn  never  to  see  him 
more  —  never  to  see  his  face  again.     Ah,  n.e  !  " 

So  sighing,  and  off  her  guard  for  the  moment,  the  Queen's 
memory,  from  old  habit,  slipped  back  to  the  days  when  she  had 
first  met  Sir  Lancelot.  How  noble  and  true  he  had  seemed  when 
he  came  that  day,  reputed  the  best  and  goodliest  man  in  the  hall 
of  Arthur,  to  act  as  ambassador  to  his  King,  and  lead  her  forth  to 
be  a  bride  —  the  bride  of  the  great  King,  Arthur  Pendragon, 
whom  as  yet  she  had  not  seen  I  How  pleasant  was  the  trip  through 
the  leafy  woods  and  over  the  blossoming  fields,  where  the  mating 
birds  sang  joyously,  and  all  the  heavens  seemed  upbreaking  through 
the  earth!  How  she  had  enjoyed  the  company  of  the  handsome, 
brilliant  knight,  and  how  pleasant  had  been  their  talk  of  sport  and 
field  and  all  the  sweet  thoughts  of  youth  I  Ah,  me  I  if  life  could 
have  been  one  long  ramble  over  blue  hyacinths  and  'neath  whisper- 
ing pines  by  the  side  of  the  courtly  dark-haired  Lancelot;  if  they 


r  :. 


I.    ! 


ii 


am 


156     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

could  have  wandered  for  aye  and  never  come  near  the  great,  golden 
Pendragonship  and  the  waiti  ig,  golden-haired  King,  who  had 
proven  such  a  high,  self-contained  lover!  For  Guinevere  had 
never  loved  her  husband.  Hers  was  then  a  soul  incapable  of  un- 
derstanding the  great  height  and  purity  he  had  reached,  and  she 
had  early  tired  of  his  loftly  ideals. 

So  she  sat  immersed  in  trance,  moving  through  the  past  uncon- 
sciously, till  on  a  s,jdden  rang  a  cry  throughout  the  quiet  nunnery: 
"The  King!  The  King!"  Stricken  stiff,  the  Queen  listened  to 
the  mailed  feet  as  they  rang  along  the  corridor,  then  fell  trom  her 
seat  prone  upon  the  floor  and  veiled  her  lace  in  her  white  arms, 
her  golden  hair  unbound  and  floating  all  :;bout  her.  Not  once 
did  the  feet  pause  until  they  reached  her  side,  then  came  a  long 
silence,  and  at  last,  when  she  felt  she  could  bear  the  suspense  no 
longer,  a  voice  spoke,  so  low,  monotonous,  hollow,  and  changed, 
that  she  scarce  knew  it  for  her  lord's: 

"  Liest  thou  here  so  low,  the  child  of  one  I  honored,  dead  before 
thy  shame  ?  Well  it  is  that  no  child  is  born  of  thee  1  Thine  off- 
spring arc  sword  and  fire,  red  ruin  and  the  breakinr  up  of  laws, 
the  craft  of  kindred  and  the  godless  hosts  of  heaihen  swarming 
o'er  the  Northern  Sea !  Kncwest  thou  from  whence  I  have  come  ? 
From  waging  bitter  war  with  Lancelot,  my  mightiest  knight  and 
erstwhile  brother;  and  he  that  did  not  hesitate  to  smite  mc  in  the 
worst  way,  had  yet  the  grace  of  courJc-sy  left  in  him  to  stay  his  hand 
against  the  King  who  made  him  knight.  But  many  a  noble  knight 
w^s  s'  .in.  and  all  Lancelot's  kith  and  kin  have  gone  to  abide  with 
him;  Modred  has  raised  a  revolt  with  many  more  who  have  chosen 
to  forget  their  troth  and  fealty  and  cleave  unto  him,  so  I  have  only 
a  remnant  of  my  once  glorious  Round  Table  rcmrining.  But  of 
this  remnant  who  still  love  and  serve  me  I  will  spar-;  enoigh  to 
guard  thee  safely  here,  for  there  are  wild  ♦•mes  in  store  for  the 

land. 

"  Unless  ancient  prophecies  err,  I  march  now  to  mrtt  my  doom, 
as  it  has  been  foretold  that  one  of  mine  own  blood  shall  overthrow 


I 


GUINEVERE 


'57 


me.  But  thou  hast  not  made  my  hfe  so  sweet  to  me  that  I,  the 
King,  should  greatly  care  to  live,  for  thou  hast  spoilt  the  purpose 
of  my  life.  Oh,  Guinevere,  I  was  first  of  all  the  kings  to  raise  the 
knight  errantry  of  tlie  realm  and  bind  them  into  one  company,  the 
fair  Order  of  the  Round  I  able,  a  glorious  band  composed  of  the 
flower  of  men.  and  one  well-titted  to  serve  as  a  model  for  the  mighty 
world.  I  bound  them  to  me  with  vows  strait  and  severe;  I  made 
them  lay  their  hands  in  mint  and  swear  to  reverence  the  King,  as 
if  he  were  their  conscience,  and  their  conscience  as  their  King;  to 
break  the  heathen  and  uphold  the  Christ;  to  ride  abroad  redressing 
human  wrongs;  tn  speak  no  slander,  no,  nor  listen  to  it;  to  honor 
their  own  word  as  if  their  God's,  and  lead  sweet  lives  of  purest 
chastity;  to  love  one  maiden  only,  cleave  to  her,  and  worship  her 
with  years  of  noble  deeds,  for  I  know  of  no  more  subtle  master 
under  heaven  than  a  loving  maiden  to  keep  down  the  base  in  man 
and  teach  him  high  thought,  amiable  ord",  courtliness,  desire  for 
fame,  and  all  that  makes  a  man.  And  Guinevere,  all  this  throve 
before  I  wedded  thee,  believing  thee  one  to  feel  my  purpose  and  be 
a  true  helpmate.  But  thy  shameful  sin  with  Lancelot  corrupted 
all  my  Court,  and  smote  all  that  my  heart  most  desired;  so  that 
now  I  care  not  greatly  if  I  lose  my  life.  Think  how  sad  it  would 
be  for  me  to  sit  within  my  lonely  halls  missing  my  noble  knights 
.md  their  accustomed  tales  of  goodly  deeds,  as  in  the  golden  days 
before  thy  sin;  and  at  Camelot  and  iJsk  thy  darkened  Dowers  would 
ever  speak  of  thee  and  I  should  always  hear  thy  I;  ht  footfalls  on 
the  stairs  and  see  thy  shadow  glide  from  room  to  room.  For, 
Guinevere,  think  not  because  thou  didst  not  love  thy  lord,  that  he 
has  wholly  lost  his  love  for  thee.  I  am  not  made  of  so  slight  ele- 
ments, yet  I  must  leave  thee,  woman,  to  thy  shame.  Better  the 
King's  waste  hearth  and  aching  heart,  than  thou  re-seated  in  thy 
place  of  light,  the  mockery  of  my  people  and  their  bane  I  " 

For  a  moment  the  King  paused,  his  voice  too  choked  for  speech, 
and  the  miserable  Queen  crept  forward  and  laid  her  hands  about  his 
feet,  but  she  did  not  speak  or  unveil  her  saddened,  tear-swcpt  face. 


158     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KLNG 

The  King  had  no  idea  of  the  great  sea  of  remorse  and  repentanc; 
that  seethed  in  her  soul  and  paralyzed  her  tongue.     In  the  distance 
a  solitary  trumpet  blew,  and  the  waiting  war-horse  below  neighed 
joyfully,  as  though  recognizing  the  voice  of  a  friend,     'ihe  sound 
roused  the  King,  and  he  continued  sorrowfully: — 

"  Yet  think  not,  Guinevere,  that  I  have  come  to  curs.  thee.     I. 
whose  vast  pity  almost  makes  me  die  to  see  thee  laying  thy  goldei 
head,  that  was  once  my  pride,  at  my   feet.      Piist  is  my  flaming 
wrath  and  the  pangs  which  made  my  tears  burn,  and  lo,  I  forgive 
thee,  as  Eternal  God  forgives  1     Do  thou  tor  thine  o- n  soal  the 

rest.  . 

"  But  how  shall  I  take  leave  of  all  I  loved  ^  O  golden  hair, 
with  which  I  used  to  play,  not  knowing!  O  bea.  iful  worn  nhood 
—  a  kingdom's  curse  to  Camelot!  I  cannot  touch  th  lips,  they 
are  not  mine,  but  Lancelot's;  nay,  they  never  were  the  King's.  I 
cannot  take  thy  hand;  that  too  is  flesh,  and  in  the  flesh  thou  hast 
sinned.  Nevertheless,  O  Guinevere,  in  spite  of  all,  I  love  thee 
still  1  Let  no  man  dream  but  that  I  love  thee  still!  Perchance, 
if  so  thou  purify  thy  soul  and  lean  on  our  fair  father  Christ,  here- 
after in  that  world  where  all  are  pure  we  two  may  meet  before  high 
God,  and  thou  wilt  spring  to  me,  and  claim  me  thine,  and  know  I 
am  thy  husband.     Leave  me  this  last  hope,  I  charge  thee. 

"  Now  I  must  get  me  hence.  Through  the  thick  night  I  hear 
the  trumpet  blow.  They  summon  me,  their  King,  to  lead  to  a 
great  battle  in  the  West,  where  I  must  str'ke  against  the  man  they 
call  my  sisters  son  —  no  kin  of  mine,  who  leagues  with  Lords  of 
tne  White  Horse,  heathen  and  traitor  knight!  But  I  shall  strike 
him  dead,  and  meet  myself  with  mine  own  mysterious  doom,  con- 
cerning  which  you  shall  hear  in  due  time.  Hither  I  shall  never 
come  again,  never  see  thee  more  —  Farewell  I  " 

Then  Guinevere  felt  the  King's  breath  upon  her  neck,  and  knew 
that  ho  bent  low  over  her  and  spread  his  hands  in  unspoken  blessing. 
Choking  with  sobs  he  turned  and  passed  from  the  room,  and  still 
the    heartbroken    Queen    made    no    sign.     Low    she    groveled    in 


GUINEVERE  159 

despair  till  the  last  faint  sound  of  the  mailed  feet  had  passed; 
then  sudden!  sprang  into  life,  consumed  with  the  desire  to  sec  his 
face  and  yet  ;iersclf  keep  hidden.  And  lo!  the  King  sat  on  his 
horse  heneath  her  window,  and  round  him  was  a  group  of  nuns, 
each  with  a  candle,  listening  eagerly,  with  glad  compliance,  to  his 
charges  concerning  his  beloved  Queen,  and  how  they  were  to  guard 
an  foster  her  forevermore.  And  as  he  spake  to  therr  his  helm 
was  lowered  so  that  his  face,  which  then  was  as  an  angel's  was 
hidden  from  her;  while  above  him,  in  his  crest,  the  great  Dragon 
of  the  Pendragonship  blazed  so  brightly  that  all  the  night  seemed 
a  stream  of  fire,  and  the  moony  vapor  rolled  about  the  King  and 
wound  him  in  a  sea  of  mist  until  his  very  form  was  hidden  from  the 
sight  of  her  who  gazed  so  yearningly.  Then  the  blameles".  white 
King  moved  away  ghostlike  to  his  doom,  and  the  Queen's  numbed 
tongue  made  a  great  effort  3t  speech. 

"  O  Arthur,"  she  called,  extending  her  arms  toward  him  beseech- 
ingly, but  so  hoarse  and  faint  was  htr  voice  that  it  carried  not  even 
to  the  iiuns  below,  and  they  gazed  after  the  noble  form  of  their 
King,  unmindful  of  the  stricken  woman  above  them,  who  well-nigh 
died  as  the  great  remorseful  waves  of  her  sin  sv/ept  over  her,  and 
she  realized  at  last  what  Arthur  was,  and  knew,  too,  that  she  loved 
him  better  than  all  else  on  earth.  Who  can  measure  the  despair 
thnt  wa';  hers  as  she  gazed  in  the  direction  her  lord  had  gone? 
Only  those,  perhaps,  who  have  drained  to  the  dregs  the  bitter 
draught  Too  Late. 

"  Gone,  my  lord,"  she  moaned.  "  Gone  through  my  sin,  to  slay 
and  to  be  slain!  And  he  forgave  me,  and  I  could  not  speak! 
Sweet  h  iven,  I  should  have  answered  him,  but  his  mercy  choked 
me.  How  can  it  be  farewell?  Gone,  my  lord  *he  King,  my  own 
true  lord !  But  how  dare  I  call  him  mine  ?  The  shadow  of  Lance- 
lot cleaves  to  me,  and  the  King  called  me  polluted.  Woe  Is  me! 
What  shall  I  do?  .  .  .  Shall  I  kill  myself?  But  what  help 
in  that?  I  cannot  kill  my  sin,  if  soul  be  soul,  nor  can  I  kill  my 
shame;  no,  nor  by  living  can  1  live  it  dow.i.     The  days  will  grow 


'<  rs 


r 


i6o     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KLNG 

to  weeks,  th^  weeks  to  months,  the  months  will  add  themselves  and 
make  the  years,  tiiC  y-ars  will  roll  into  the  centuries,  and  mine  will 
ever  be  a  name  of  scorn.  I  must  not  dwell  on  the  defeat  of  fame. 
Let  the  world  be;  but  what  else  have  I?  He  spoke  of  a  hope, 
unless  it  be  he  mocked  me,  his  hope  he  called  it;  but  he  never  mocks, 
for  mockery  is  the  fume  of  little  hearts.  Blessed  be  the  King,  who 
hath  forgiven  my  wickedness,  and  left  me  hope  that  in  mine  own 
heart  I  can  live  down  sin,  and  be  his  noble  mate  hereafter  in  the 
heavens  before  high  Godl 

"  Ah,  great  and  gentle  Arthur,  lord  to  whom  my  false  pride 
would  not  look  up,  I  half  despised  the  height  to  which  I  would  not, 
or  could  not,  climb.  I  thought  I  coi'd  not  breathe  in  that  fine  air, 
that  pure  severity  of  perfect  light;  I  yearned  for  the  warmth  and 
color  which  Lancelot  gave  me,  but  now  I  see  thee  as  thou  art. 
Thou  art  the  highest  and  the  most  human,  tool  Oh,  is  there  none 
to  tell  the  King  I  love  him,  though  so  late?  Now  —  ere  he  goes 
to  the  battle?  Sweet  heaven,  none!  I  must  live  so  that  I  myself 
may  tell  him  in  that  purer  life;  now  it  were  too  daring.  Ah,  my 
God,  what  might  I  not  have  made  of  thy  fair  world,  had  I  but  loved 
thy  highest  creature  here?  It  was  my  duty  to  have  loved  the 
highest;  it  surely  was  my  profit  had  I  known;  it  would  have  been 
my  pleasure  had  I  seen.  Always  we  needs  must  love  the  highest 
when  we  see  it." 

Here  some  one  grasped  her  hands  in  warm  supplication,  and 
lifting  her  bowed  head  the  Queen  beheld  the  little  novice  weep- 
ing at  her  feet.  "  Yea,  little  maid,"  she  said  softly.  "  Arise, 
I  forgive  the?  willingly,  for  am  I  not  forgiven?  " 

Then  sie  became  aware  that  the  holy  nuns  were  gathered  around 
her,  weeping,  and  her  heart  was  loosed  within  her,  and  she  wept 
with  them,  saying:  "  Ye  know  me  then,  that  wicked  one  who 
broke  the  vast  design  and  purpose  of  the  King?  O  shut  me  round 
v/ith  narrowing  nu"nery-wa!ls,  and  keep  me  from  the  voices  cry- 
ing, '  Shame!  '  Yet  let  me  not  scjrn  myself,  for  he  loves  me  still 
—  let  no  one  dream  but  that  he  loves  me  still.     And,  holy  maidens. 


GUINEVERE 


i6i 


if  so  ye  do  not  shudder  at  me  nor  scorn  to  call  me  sister,  let  mc 
dwell  with  you.  I  would  wear  the  black  and  white,  and  be  a  nun 
like  you, —  fasting  with  your  fasts,  but  not  feasting  with  your 
feasts;  grieving  with  your  grief:,;  not  grieving  at  your  joys  but 
still  not  rejoicing  with  them;  mingling  with  all  your  sacred  rites. 
I  would  pray  and  be  prayed  for.  I  would  do  each  low  office  of 
your  holy  house, —  walk  your  dim  cloister,  distribute  dole  to  poor, 
sick  people,  and  so  wear  out  in  alms-deed  and  in  prayer  the  life 
which  wrought  the  ruin  of  my  lord,  the  King." 

And  it  came  to  pass  as  the  Queen  petitioned.  The  nuns  gladly 
took  her  unto  themselves,  and  she,  half  hoping,  half  fearing,  pray- 
ing always,  sought  to  free  herself  from  sin.  Finally  the  good 
abbess  died,  and  Guinevere,  because  of  her  kindly  deeds,  her  re- 
pentant life,  and  noble  rank,  was  chosen  to  fill  her  place.  For 
three  years  she  ruled  wisely  and  well,  beloved  by  all,  and  then 
passed  to  that  better  land,  where  sin  cannot  enter  in,  her  heart 
filled  with  the  message  she  meant  to  deliver  to  Arthur, 


CIlAPli-R  XI 


Tin:  pAssiNc;  OF  arthur 

WHEN  King  Arthur  rode  forth  from  his  farewell  of  the 
humbled  Queen  in  the  convent  at  Almshury,  his  heart  lay 
dead  within  him.  He  had  lost  faith  in  the  world,  and  in 
himself,  and,  as  he  told  the  Queen,  he  did  not  greatly  care  to  live. 
So  he  joined  the  main  body  of  his  faithful  followers  and  moved 
with  them  toward  that  battle  which  was  destined  to  take  place  in 
the  West,  and  where  it  had  been  foretold  that  he  would  meet 
his  doom.  A  great  restlessness  was  upon  him.  He  could  not  eat, 
and,  though  worn  with  the  day's  marches,  he  could  not  sleep,  and 
spent  the  time  listening  in  vain  f.jr  the  answer  to  that  bitter  cry 
echoed  from  the  cross,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me?  " 

One  night  Sir  Bedivere,  the  first  of  all  the  knights  whom  he  had 
knighted,  a   faithful,  trusty  follower  who  never  for  one  moment 
doubted   his   KIpl     nnd   one  of  the   three   whom   Arthur  sent  to 
Leodogran  with  the  request  for  his  daughter's  hand  in  marriage, 
being  himself  una'jle  to  sleep,  came  oi't  and  wandered  among  the 
pitched  tents  of  tiie  hosts.     Something  drew  him  near  to  the  tent 
of  his  lord,  and  here  he  heard  the  King  lamenting  to  himself  over 
the  failure  of  his  life's  work  and  purpose,  saying  that  surely  God 
had  forsaken  him,  if,  indeed,  God  cared  for  the  world  of  men  at 
all,  for  he,  the  King,  had  wrought  and  lought  for  Jod's  cause  all 
his  life,  and  now  wife,  friend  and  people  had  betrayed  him,  and 
there  was  no  sign  that  Heaven  took  any  heed.     And  the  heart  of 
Bedivere  was  heavy  within  him,  and  he  sought  in  vain  for  some 
comforting  thought  to  offer.     But,  whilf   he  cudgeled  his  brains, 
Arthur  himself  stammered  forth  the  words  that  had  once  given 
comfort  to  the  Psalmist  when  the  bitterness  and  heaviness  of  death 

162 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR 


163 


WU3  upon  him:     "  '  I  shall  not  die,  but  live,  and  declare  the  works 
of  the  Lord.'     O  Christ,  I  pass,  but  shall  not  die." 

And  the  King  slept,  but  not  in  peace,  for  there  came  to  him, 
blown  lightly  along  the  wind,  the  ghost  of  Gawain,  who  was  killed 
in  the  wnr  with  Lancelot.  As  the  frail  phantom  passed,  it  cried 
to  him: 

"Hail,  King!  To-morrow  thou  shalt  pass  away.  Farewell  1 
There  is  an  isle  of  rest  for  thee,  but  I  am  blown  along  a  wandering 
wind.     Hollow,  hollow,  hollow  is  all  delight!  " 

The  King  waked  with  a  start,  crying:  "Who  spake?  Twas 
the  voice  of  Gawain  in  the  wind.  Was  it  a  dream?  Or  doth  all 
that  haunt  the  wastes  and  wilds  mourn,  knowing  that  the  end  oi 
the  Round  Table  is  at  hand?  " 

Sir  Bedivere  made  quick  to  answer:  "  My  King,  let  pass  what- 
ever will,  elves  and  the  harmless  glamor  of  the  field,  for  yet  thou 
shalt  not  pass.  Light  was  Gawain  in  life,  and  light  is  he  in  death, 
for  the  ghost  is  as  the  man;  care  not  thoo  for  dreams  of  him,  but 
rise.  I  hear  the  steps  of  Modred  in  the  West,  and  with  him  are 
many  of  the  knights,  once  thine,  whom  thou  hast  loved,  but  who 
are  now  grown  grosser  than  the  heathen,  spitting  on  their  vows 
and  on  thee.  Right  well  in  heart  they  know  thee  for  the  King. 
Arise,  go  forth  and  conquer  as  of  old!  ' 

But  the  King  answered  him  sadly,  saying:  "  Far  other  is  this 
battle  whereto  we  move  than  when  we  strove  in  youth,  and  brake 
the  petty  things,  and  fought  with  Rome.  Ill  doom  is  mine  to  war 
against  my  people  and  my  knights.  The  King  who  fights  his  peo- 
ple fights  himself.  The  stroke  that  strikes  them  dead  is  as  my 
death  to  me.  But  let  us  hence,  and  find  or  feel  our  way  through 
this  blind  haze,  which,  ever  since  I  left  one  lying  in  the  dust  at 
Almsbury,  hath  folded  the  paths  of  the  world  in  darkness  for  me." 
So  the  King  arose  and  girded  on  his  armor  while  it  was  yet 
night,  and  summoned  his  willing  hosts,  and  by  their  powerful  aid 
I'ushed  the  forces  of  Modred,  league  by  league,  back  to  the  west- 
ern boundary  of  Lyonesse.     Here  the  long  mountains  ended  in  a 


i 


■« 


,64     THF  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KLNG 

coast  of  shiftinK  sand,  and  beyond  this  was  the  cver-rcstlcss  sea. 
1  he  traitors  could  Hcc  no  more,  so  turned  on  the  waste  sands  by 
the  hujigry  sea  and  there  closed  with  the   Knights  of  the   Kound 
Tabic  in  that  last  "  weird  battle  of  the  West." 

Arthur  had  fought  in  many  a  battle,  but  never  in  one  like  this. 
A  death-white  mist  swept  over  land  and  sea,  and  chilled  the  blood 
of  friend  and  foe  until  their  hearts  were  cold  with  formless  fear. 
And  even  on  Arthur  fell  confusion,  since  he  saw  not  whom  he 
fought;  for  friend  ind  foe  were  shadows  in  the  mist,  and  friend 
ilcw  friend  not  knowing  whom  he  slew.  And  all  fought  as  men 
possessed;  some  were  haunted  by  visions  of  golden  youth,  others 
were  met  by  the  faces  of  old  ghosts  upon  the  battle-field,  and  in 
the  mist  was  done  man/  a  noble,  knightly  deed,  and  also  many  a 
base  one.  All  the  air  was  tilled  with  the  crash  of  splintering  spears 
and  the  shattering  of  helm  and  harness  under  the  blows  of  sword 
and  battle-axe,  and  the  shouts  of  those  who  prevailed  mingled  with 
the  shrieks  of  the  fallen,  who  looked  to  Heaven  for  the  Christ,  and 
saw  only  the  mist,  and  heard  only  the  oaths,  insults,  and  blas- 
phemies of  the  wounded  heathen  and  traitorous  knights,  the  prayers 
and  cries  for  light,  and  the  moans  of  the  dying. 

All  day  long  the  forces  swayed  and  struggled,  until  toward  even- 
ing a  dead  hush  fell  upon  the  scene.  Then  a  bitter  wind  came 
out  from  the  North  and  blew  the  traitorous  mist  aside,  and  the 
moon  rose  clear  and  full  over  the  battle-field.  King  Arthur  got 
upon  his  feet,  pale  and  unsteady,  and  glanced  searchingly  over  the 
field,  but  no  man  was  moving  there,  nor  was  any  voice,  either  of 
Christian  or  heathen,  heard  thereon;  all  was  deathly  still,  save  the 
wild  waves  of  the  ocean.  For  the  relentless  tide  was  coming  in, 
and  surged  among  the  dead  faces,  swaying  the  helpless  hands  to 
and  fro  and  tumbling  the  hollow  helmets  of  the  dead.  And  the 
King  swayed  and  would  have  fallen,  but  for  the  timely  hand  of 
Sir  Bedivere,  who  alone  of  all  his  once  glorious  Round  Table 
remained  by  his  side. 

"  Ah,  Bedivere,"  cried  the  Ki.ig,  clinging  gladly  to  his  faithful 


THE  PASSING  O!    ARTHUR 


165 


follower,  whom  he  had  not  bclure  ohscrvcd,  "  thou  art  true  and 
loyal  still!  Hcarcst  thou  the  voice  ot  the  sea  as  it  beats  upon  the 
taccs  of  the  dead  who  died  tor  me?  Alas!  on  my  hrart  h^th 
fallen  a  great  confusion;  I  know  not  what  I  am,  or  where  I  am, 
or  whether  I  be  Kin^.  Behold,  I  seem  but  King  amon^  the  dead." 
"Aye,"  answered  Bcdivfrc  boldly,  "my  King,  King  everywhere  I 
If  the  dead  have  kings,  there  also  will  I  worshp  thee.  But  stdl 
thy  life  is  whole,  and  still  1  live  who  love  thee;  but  as  for  him  who 
hates  thee,  he  that  brought  the  heathen  back  among  us,  behold 
yonder  he  stands  unharmed, —  Modred,  the  traitor  of  thy  house," 
and  he  pointed  scornfully  to  where  Modred  had  lifted  himself 
victoriously  above  a  heap  of  slain. 

All  the  great  Kind's  heart  was  shaken  by  one  last  wild  burst 
of  wrath.  "  Call  him  not  one  of  my  house,"  he  cried  fiercely, 
grasping  his  sword,  Excalibur.  "  No  kin  of  mine  is  he  who  hath 
lifted  up  his  hand  against  me  in  treachery.  But  thou  sayesr  well 
in  this  dark  hour  of  mine  that  for  thee  I  still  am  King.  Yea, 
I  am  the  King,  and  thou  shalt  sec  one  more  deed  worthy  of  a 
King  before  I  go  hence  and  am  seen  no  more." 

Like  a  lion  roused,  he  rushed  upon  the  traitor.  But  Modred 
was  ready  and  waiting,  and  gave  him  back  blow  for  blow,  in- 
flicting many  grievous  wounds  upon  his  head.  Then  Arthur,  sum- 
moning all  his  strength  for  a  fatal  blow,  brought  down  Excalibur 
with  mighty  force  and  laid  the  rebel  Modred  dead  at  his  feet, 
but  he  was  well-nigh  dead  himielf. 

In  a  trice  Sir  Bedivere  was  at  the  side  of  his  fainting  Kin^, 
and  bore  him  tenderly  to  a  ruined  chapel  in  a  field  near  by.  It 
stood  on  a  narrow  strip  of  waste  land,  out  of  reach  of  the  grasp- 
ing sea,  which  sought  in  vain  to  over-wash  it  from  one  side,  while 
on  the  other  a  great  mere  shone  brightly  in  the  moonlight.  Here 
at  the  foot  of  a  broken  cross,  Bedivere  gently  laid  the  King  and 
ministered  unto  him. 

Soon  Arthur  opened  his  blue  eyes,  and  said  weakly:  "The 
sequel  of  to-day  unsolders  all  the  goodliest  fellowship  of  famous 


I 


MICRCXOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2 


1.0   'rifi  iM 


I.I 


i-  iv     12.2 


136 

lio     lllll  2.0 


1.8 


1.25    III  1.4 


1.6 


A     APPLIED  IIVMGE     Inc 


■  6)  482  -  OJOO  -  PhO'  c 
16)  2M  -  5989  -  Fo, 


i66     THE  STOR  1   OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

knights  whereof  this  world  holds  record.  They  sleep  -  the  mea 
I  loved  — ,"  and  a  little  later  he  whispered  brokenly,  I  pensh 
by  this  people  which  I  made." 

Then  presently  he  seemed  to  gather  strength,  and  roused  him- 
self to  talk  to  the  sorrowful  Bedivere.     "  Ah,  Bedivere.  rny  faith- 
ful knight  and  true,  first  and  last  of  all  my  nob.e  Ko""d  ^  able 
n.ver   more   shall  we  meet  in  joyous  converse   m  the   halls  and 
gardens  of  CamelotI     All  are  dead,  the  men  I  loved.     I  made  this 
realm  and  people,  and  they  have  been  my  death,  though  yet  I 
hold  by  Merlin's  prophecy  that  I  shall  come  agam  to  rule  once 
more.     But  heed  not  thou  the  future.     Urgent  is  the  present  need, 
for  my  wound  is  so  deep  that  except  some  aid  come  I  cannot  live 
till  morning.     Do  thou,  therefore,  take  my  good  sword,  Excal.bur, 
which  long  ago  was  given  me  by  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  -  thou  re- 
memberest  how  the  mystic  arm  rose  up  from  the  surface  of  the 
water,  and  gave  the  sword  into  my  hand;  and  thou  knowest  also 
how  Merlin  bade  me:     'Take  thou  and  strike;  the  time  to  cast 
away  is  yet  far  off,'  and  I  took  it  and  did  strike,  not  for  my  own 
glory,  but  for  the  glory  of  Christ,  my  Master;  and  now  the  time 
fs  at  hand  to  cast  away -therefore  take  Excalibur,  I  say    and 
haste  thee  to  the  brink  of  the  mere,  fling  him  therein  as  far  as 
thou  mayest,  watch  what  befalls,  and  quickly  bring  me  word  agam. 

"  My  King,"  answered  Sir  Bedivere  earnestly,  "  it  is  not  meet 
to  leave  thee  here  alone,  for  a  little  thing  may  harm  a  wounded 
man.  Yet,  if  thou  commandest,  I  can  but  obey.  Quickly  will  I 
go,  watch  and  see,  and  bring  thee  word."  .      ,    .    • 

With  all  haste  Sir  Bedivere  went  forth  from  the  ruined  shrine, 
passing  among  the  tombs  that  stood  around  it  where  the  bones 
of  many  mighty  men  lay  moldering.  and  climb,ng_  by  a  rugged 
zigzag  path  down  the  juts  of  pointed  rock,  he  reacned  at  last  the 
shining  levels  of  the  lake.  Here  he  drew  the  sword,  Excalibur 
and  prepared  to  fling  it  into  the  lake.  But  as  he  ^-nd'shed  > 
aloft  the  moon  came  out  from  behind  a  cloud  and  sparkled  m  the 
keen'  frosty  air  upon  the  hilt,  for  the  hilt  was  all  encrusted  with 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR 


167 


gems, —  sapphire,  topaz,  diamond,  and  jacinth,  a  miracle  of  jewel- 
work.  And  Bcdivere  was  dazzled  by  the  blinding:;  light,  and  his 
purpose  wavered  for  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  cast  away  a 
thing  so  precious.  Therefore,  he  determined  to  leave  Kxcalibur 
hidden  among  the  many-knotted  waterflags  that  whistled  stiff  aid 
dry  beside  the  water's  edge,  and  so  strode  slowly  back  to  the 
wounded  King. 

"Hast  thou  performed  my  mission?"  questioned  Arthur 
quickly.     "  What  hast  tho.    seen  or  heard?" 

And  Bedivere  made  answer,  saying:  "  1  heard  the  waters  lap- 
ping on  the  rocks,  and  washing  among  the  reeds." 

"  Thou  hast  betrayed  thy  nature  and  thy  name,  not  rendering 
true  answer  like  a  noble  knight!  "  cried  the  King  faintly.  "  It  is 
a  shameful  thing  for  men  to  lie.  Hadst  thou  done  as  I  bade  thee, 
there  had  been  some  sign,  either  hand  or  voice  or  motion  of  the 
water.  But  now  I  charge  thee,  as  thou  art  lief  and  dear  to  me, 
go  agam  quickly,  and  spare  not  to  fling  the  sword.  Watch  what 
thou  seest  and  bring  me  word." 

So  Sir  Bedivere  went  the  second  time  across  the  ridge.  But 
no  sooner  had  he  drawn  Excalibur  from  the  reeds,  .ban  it  again 
seemed  to  him  to  be  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  cast  away  so  noble  a  sword. 
"What  good  can  follow  if  I  do  this  thing?"  he  asked  himself. 
"  What  harm  if  I  do  it  not?  Much  harm  in  disobedience,  doubt- 
less; but  would  it  be  greatly  wrong  to  disobey  the  King,  now? 
Surely  he  is  sick  with  his  wound,  and  knows  not  what  he  sayi .  And 
if  I  throw  the  sword  away,  what  relic  or  record  of  my  lord  is  left 
to  after  ages?  Whereas,  if  Excalibur  is  kept  stored  in  a  King's 
treasure-house,  it  will  be  much  to  King  Arthur's  worship  and  honor. 
It  will  prove  an  inspiration  to  men  in  the  ages  to  come,  and  folks 
will  marvel  at  it  and  say,  '  King  Arthur's  sword,  wrought  by  the 
maiden  of  the  Lake  in  nine  years'  time!"  Therefore,  he  hid 
Excalibur  a  second  time,  and  went  slowly  back  to  the  King. 

And  Arthur,  breathing  heavily,  asked  him  again:  "What  is 
it  thou  hast  seen  or  heard?" 


i68     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

"  I  heard  the  water  lapping  on  the  crag,  and  the  long  ripple 
washing  in  the  reeds,"  answered  Sir  Bedivere  as  before. 

Then  was  King  Arthur  wroth  indeed.  "  Ah,  traitor,  unkind, 
untrue !  "  he  cried  scornfully.  "  Woe  is  me  1  Authority  forgets  a 
dying  King.  I  see  thee  what  thou  art,  for  thou,  the  last  of  all 
my  knights  left  to  me,  who  should  compass  the  love  and  loyal 
obedience  of  all,  thou  wouldst  betray  me  for  the  sake  of  the  precious 
hilt,  either  for  the  lust  of  the  eyes  or  the  lust  of  gold.  But  now, 
get  thee  hence  once  more,  for  though  a  man  has  twice  failed  m 
his  duty,  yet  he  may  prosper  the  third  time.  Begone;  only  if 
this  time  thou  sparest  to  fling  Excalibur,  I  will  arise  and  slay  thee 
with  mine  own  hands." 

Sir  Bedivere  was  filled  with  shame,  and,  rising  quickly,  he  leaped 
down  the  path  to  the  water's  edge,  snatched  Excalibur  from  the 
bulrushes,  and  wheeling  with  shut  eyes  that  he  might  not  again  be 
tempted,  threw  it  with  all  his  strength  straight  into  the  middle  of 
the  mere.  Round  and  round  the  great  brand  flashed,  making 
lightnings  in  vhe  splendors  of  the  moon,  and  whirling  over  in  an 
arch  like  a  streamer  of  light  from  the  great  Aurora  of  the  North. 
But  lo!  ere  the  sword  could  dip  the  wave,  a  mighty  arm,  clothed 
in  mystic  white  samite,  rose  up  from  the  bosom  of  tlie  waters,  caught 
the  hilt,  and,  brandishing  Excahbur  three  times,  drew  it  under  into 
the  mere.  Then  was  Sir  Bedivere  filled  with  wonder  and  amaze- 
ment, and  he  hurried  to  the  King. 

"Aye!"  cried  Arthur,  before  he  could  find  breath  for  speech, 
"  I  know  by  thine  eyes  that  thou  hast  done  my  command.  Tell 
me :  what  is  it  thou  hast  heard,  or  seen?  "  And  he  listened  quietly 
while  Sir  Bedivere  told  the  wonder.  Then  he  murmured  heavily: 
"  My  end  draws  nigh;  'tis  time  that  I  were  gone.  iMake  broad 
thy  shoulders  to  receive  my  weight,  and  bear  me  to  the  mere.  I 
fear  my  wound  hath  taken  cold,  and  that  1  shall  die." 

Sir  Btdivere's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  he  would  have  spoken 
but  could  find  no  words  in  which  to  clothe  his  remorse  that  his 
disobedience    should   have   in   any   way   placed   his   lord's   life   in 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR 


169 


jeopardy.  Carefully  he  kneeled  on  one  knee  and  taking  the  King's 
languid  hands  gently  i'l  his  own,  drew  them  over  his  shoulders, 
and  so,  rising,  bore  him  upon  his  own  broad  back  down  to  the 
water's  Jge.  As  they  came  nepr  to  the  great  mere,  all  shilling 
in  the  winter  moon's  radiant  glow,  they  beheld  a  dusky  barge  mov- 
ing toward  them.  Dark  as  a  funeral  scarf  it  was,  from  stem  to 
stern,  and  the  decks  were  thronged  with  black-clad  forms  whose 
faces  were  hidden  in  black  hoods.  And  among  them  were  three 
queens  in  crowns  of  gold  —  the  same  three  queens  who  often 
came  to  Arthur  in  his  hour  of  need  —  and  from  them  rose  a  wailing 
cry  of  lamentation  "  that  shivered  to  the  tingling  stars." 

"  Place  me  in  the  barge,"  said  the  King  faintly,  as  the  vessel 
came  close  to  the  shore. 

The  bold  Sir  Bedivere  obeyed  wonderingly,  giving  up  his  pre- 
cious charge  to  the  three  queens,  who  stretched  forth  eager  arms 
to  receive  their  wounded  King.  The  tallest  and  fairest  of  the 
queens  took  his  head  in  her  Ir.p  and  unbound  his  casque,  and  all 
three  fell  to  chafing  his  hands,  calling  him  by  name,  and  bathing  his 
white  face  with  bitter  tears.  And,  indeed,  the  sight  of  him  was 
very  piteous,  so  pale  and  blood-stained  was  he,  with  his  glorious 
curls  all  parched  with  dust  and  hanging  with  clotted  points, —  a 
very  different  King  from  the  Arthur  of  old  who  rode  in  shining 
armor,  like  a  star,  leading  his  knights  to  the  charge  in  war  or 
tournament ! 

Then  the  barge  put  off  from  t.ie  shore,  and  Bedivere  was  left 
alone.  "  Ah,  my  lord  Arthur,"  he  cried  heart-brokenly,  "  whither 
shall  I  go?  Where  shall  I  hide  myself?  For  the  old  days  are 
dead  and  knightly  :?lory  is  nc  more;  the  Round  Table  is  gone 
forever.  There  have  been  no  such  times  as  these  since  the  Star  led 
the  three  Wise  Men  to  Bethlehem.  But  now  they  are  gone,  and 
thou,  too,  art  leaving  me,  and  I  —  must  I  go  forth  into  the  dark- 
ened days  and  live  my  life  among  strange  men  who  know  me 
not?" 

Slowly  the  King  answered  him  from  the  barge:     "  The  old  or- 


:ih 


I70     THE  STORY  OF  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

der  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new,  and  God  has  many  ways  of 
accomplishing  his  purposes.     Comfort  thyself,  for  in  me  there  is 
no  comfort  to  trust  in.     My  life's  work  is  done,  and  I  pray  t,od 
to  accept  and  purify  it  for  Himself.     And  thou,  if  thou  seest  me 
no  more,  prav  for  my  soul.     More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 
than  this  world  dreams  of;  it  is  the  golden  chain  that  Imks  this 
earth  to  Heaven  and  the  throne  of  God.     Men  are  little  better 
than  sheep  and  goats,  if,  knowing  God,  they  lift  not  their  heads 
in  prayer.      But  now  farewell.      I  am  going  a  long  way  with  these 
friends  of  mine.     My  mind  is  all  dim,  but  methinks  I  go  to  the 
island-valley  of  .Avalon,  where  never  comes  hail  or  snow  or  wind- 
storms, neither  does  the  sun's  heat  burn  there,  but  all  things  rest 
and  thrive  amid  wooded  meadows  ringed  round  with  the  summer 
sea.     And  there  will  I  heal  myself  of  my  grievous  wounds." 

As  the  King  ceased  speaking,  the  barge  moved  away  with  oar 
and  sail,  "  like  some  full-breasted  swan  that,  fluting  a  wild  carol 
ere  her  death,  ruffles  her  pure  cold  plume,  and  takes  the  flood  with 
swarthy  webs."  Long  Sir  Bedivere  stood  and  gazed  until  the  hull 
looked  like  one  black  dot  against  the  verge  of  dawn,  and  the  wail- 
ing had  died  away.  Many  memories  crowded  each  other,  but, 
chief  of  all,  he  pondered  on  Merlin's  weird  rhyme:  "  From  the 
great  deep  to  the  great  deep  he  goes."  And  he  wondered  whether 
Arthur  would  ever  come  again,  and  wht  Jier  the  three  dark  queens 
in  the  black  barge  were  not  the  same  three  who  had  stood  beside 
Arthur,  clothed  in  light,  when  he  was  crowned  King. 

Then  the  stillness  of  the  winter  dawn  oppressed  him,  and  he 
groaned  aloud:  "  The  King  is  gone."  But,  as  he  climbed  the 
jutting  crags,  he  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  away  in  the  distance,  the 
barge,  a  mere  speck  on  the  verge  of  dawn.  And  as  he  looked, 
there  was  borne  to  his  ears,  from  the  far  borders  of  the  world,  a 
triumphant  sound  of  joyful  welcome,  as  though  the  people  of  a 
great  city,  with  one  mighty  voice,  were  rejoicing  with  music  and 
singing  over  the  coming  of  their  King.  As  he  strained  his  eyes 
beneath  his  arched  hand,  the  speck  vanished,  and  the  sun  burst  forth 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR  171 

in  all  his  glory,  bringing  the  new  year,  with  its  new  chances  and 
triumphs.  But  Bedivere's  heart  was  too  sore  for  welcome,  and 
he  trudged  away  over  the  sands,  himself  also  journeying  into  the 
unknown. 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


IDYLLS   OF   THE    KING 


IN     IWI.l.VI.    li(J()KS 
"Flos  Rfgiim  .tithurus"  —  Josi  i-H   op  FxFTF.R 

DF.DICATION 

These   to    His   Memory  —  since    he  With  « hat  Mihlime  repression  of  him- 

held  them  dear.  self, 

Perchance    as    (inding    there    uncon-  And    in    what   limits,   and    huw    tcn- 

sciously  derly ; 

Some  imajje  of  himself — I  dedicate,  Not    svMiyint;    to   this    faction    or   to 
I  dedicate,   I  consecrate  with  tears —  that; 

These  Idylls.  Nut  making  his  high  place  the  lawless 

perch 

And  indeed  He  seems  to  me  Of  wing'd  ambitions,  nor  a  vantage- 
Scarce    other    than    my    king's    ideal  ground 

knight.  For  ple:isure;  but  thro'  all  this  tract 
"  Who   reverenced    his   conscience   as  of  years 

his  king;  Wearing  the  white  flower  of  a  blame- 
Whosc  glory  was,   redressing  human  less  life, 

wrong;  Before  a  thousand  peering  littlenesses, 

Who    spake     no     slander,     no,     nor  In  that  fierce  light  which  beats  upon 

listen'd  to  it ;  a  tlirone, 

Who  loved  one  only  and  who  clave  And   blackens  every  blot:   for  where 

to  her  — "  is  he, 

Her  —  over  all  whose  realms  to  their  Who   dares   foreshadow   for   an   only 

last  isle,  son 

Commingled   with   the  gloom  of   im-  A  lovelier  life,  a  more  un^tain'd,  than 

mincnt  war,  his? 

The   shadow   of    His   loss   drew    like  Or  how  should  Fngland  dreaming  of 

eclipse,  his  sons 

Darkening  the  world.     W^e  have  lost  Hope   more   for   these   than   some   in- 

him:  he  is  gone:  hcritance 

We  know  him  now:  all  narrow  jcal-  Of  such    a  life,   a  heart,   a   mind   as 

ousies  thine, 

Are   silent;    and    we    see   him    as    he  Thou    noble    Father    of    her    Kings 

moved,  to  be, 

How  modest,  kindly,  all-accomplish'd,  Laborimis    for    her    people    and    her 

wise,  poor  — 

175 


) 


176 


IDYLLS  OF  Tim  KhNG 


Voice  In  tlir  rich  dawn  (if  an  anipirr 

day  — 
Far-sithtnl    sunimonrr    of    War    and 

Wa^ti' 
To    fruit  ml    stnfi-^    and    rivalries    of 

pr.icc  — 
Swfft  natur.-  giidrd   l.y  the  gracious 

ulcani 
Of    Ifttcrs,    dear    to    Scrncf,   dear    to 

Art, 
Dear  to  thy  land  and  ours,  a  Prince 

indcfil, 
Beyond    all    titles    and    a    housciiold 

naiiii-, 
Hereafter,  thro'  all  times,  Albert  the 

Good. 


Break   not,   O   woman's-heart,   but 
still   endure; 


Break   not,    for   thou   art   Royal,   but 

endure, 
Remembering  all   the  beauty  of   that 

star 
Which    Nlione    so    close    beside    '1  bee 

that   \e   maile 
One  linht  together,  but  has  past  and 

leaves 
'I'lic  Crowi  a  lonely  sj.iendor. 

May  all   love. 
His  love,  unseen  but  felt,  o'ershadow 

Thee, 
The  love  of  all  Thv  sons  enccimpass 

Thee, 
The  love  of  all  Thy  daughters  cher- 
ish Thee, 
The  love  of  all  Thy  people  c<-mfort 

The", 
Till  Ciud  s  love  set  Thee  at  his  side 
attain  1 


THE  COMING 

Leodocran,    the    King    of    Cameli- 

ard, 
Had    one    fair    dauRhter,    and    none 

other  child  : 
And   she   was   fairest   of   all    Hesh   on 

earth, 
Guinevere,  and  in  her  his  one  deUK'"'- 


For  many  a  petty  king  ere  Arthur 
came 
Ruled   in   this  isle,  and  ever  waging 

war 
Each  upon  other,  wasted  all  the  land ; 
And    still     from     time    to    time     the 

heathen  host 
Swarm'J  overseas,  and  harried   what 

was  left. 
And    so   there   grew    great    tracts   of 

wilderness, 
Wlicrein  the  beast  was  ever  more  and 
more, 


OF  ARTHUR 

But  man  was  less  and  less,  till  Arthur 

came. 
For   tirst   Aurelius   live<l   and    fought 

and  died, 
And    after   him    King    Uther    fought 

and  died. 
But  either  fail'd  to  ni.ike  the  kingdom 

one. 
And   after  these   King  Arthur   for   a 

space, 
And  thro'  the  puissance  of  his  Table 

Round, 
Drew     all     their     petty     princedoms 

under  him, 
Their   king   and   head,    and    made    a 
realm,    and    reign'd. 


And    thus   the   land   of   Cameliard 
was  waste, 
Thick  with  wet  woods,  and  many  a 
beast  therein, 


I  HI-;  c()MiN(;  of  arihi  r 


177 


And  nonr  or  few  tn  •k-.i'    or  1  liAsr  thr 

br;ist  . 
So  that  will!  liop,  atiil  wolf   iimI  b'lar 

anil  l"'ar 
Came  niulit   and  day,   .iiid   rimtfii    in 

the  hrlds, 
And  wallow 'd   in   the   (zarilrn^  of   thr 

Kinn. 
Atid    ivcr  .ind    anon   the   wolf   wmiLl 

stral 
The   children    and    deMiur,    but    now 

and  then, 
Her  own  brood  lost  or  deail,  lefit  her 

tierce   teat 
To   human    sucklin>;s;   and   the   chil- 
dren, housed 
In   bcr  foul   den,   there  at  their  meat 

would   ^rowl, 
And  mock  their  foster-mother  on  four 

feet, 
Till,    strai^htenM,    they   grew    up   to 

wolf-like  men. 
Worse   than   the   wolves.     And    King 

I^odogran 
(jfoan'd  for  the  Roman  legions  here 

again,  ^ 
And   Caesar's  eagle:  tlK-n  his  brother 

king, 
Urien,    assail'd    him:    last   a   heathen 

hortie, 
Reddening   the  sun    with   smoke   and 

earth   with   blood, 
And    on     the    spike    that    split     the 

mother's  heart 
Spitting  the  v.hild,  brake  on  him,  till, 

amazed. 
He  knew  not  whither  he  should  turn 

for  aid. 


But — for    he    heard     of    Arthur 

newly  crown'd, 
The'  not  without  on  uproar  made  by 

those 
Who  cried,  "  He  is  not  Uther's  son  " 

—  the  King 
Sent    to    him,    saying,    '"  Arise,    and 

help  us  thou! 


For  here  Ixrween  the  man  and  beast 

we  ilie.  " 

And  Arlhur  yet  had  done  no  deed 

of  aims, 
Mut   heard    the   rail,   and   came:   and 

(  i.nnevere 
Stood    by    the    castle    walls    to   watch 

him  pass; 
Hut  since  he  neither  wor  •  on  helm  nor 

shield 
The  golilen  svtnbol  of  jiis  kinglihood, 
Hut  rode  a  simple  knight  among  his 

kiu'ghts, 
And    many    of   these    in    richer    arms 

than  he. 
She  saw  him  not,  or  m?rk'd   not,  if 

she  saw. 
One  among  many,  tho'  hii  face  was 

bare. 
Hut  Arthur,  looking  downward  as  he 

p;ist, 
Pelt  the  light  of  her  eyes  into  his  life 
Smite  on  the  sudden,  yet  lode  on,  and 

pitch'd 
His  tents  beside  the  forest.     Then  he 

drave 
The   heathen ;   after,   slew   the   beast, 

and  fell'd 
The   forest,    letting   in   the  sun,   and 

made 
Hroaa   pathways  for  the  hunter  and 

the   knight 
And  so  return'd. 

For  while  he  linger'd  there, 
A   doubt   that  ever  smolder'd   in   the 

hearts 
Of  those  great  Lords  and  Barons  of 

his  realm 
Flash'd  forth  and  into  war:  for  most 

of  these, 
CoUeaguing    with    a   score    of    petty 

kings, 
Made     head     against     him,     crying, 

"  Who  is  he 
That  he  should   rule  us?  who  hath 

proven  him 


i 


178 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


King  Uther's  son?  for  lo!  we  look  at 
him,  ,  , 

And  find  nor  face  nor  Scaring,  limbs 
m  r  voice. 

Are  like  to  those  of  Uther  whom  we 
knew.  , 

This  is  the  son  of  Gorlois,  not  the 

King;  , 

This  is   the  so.   of  Anton,   not   the 

ing. 

And  Arthur,  rassing  tlience  to  bat- 
tle, felt 
Travail,    and    throes   and    agonies   ot 

the  life.  .  .     r-    • 

Desiring    to   be    join  d    with    Uuine- 

And     thinking    as    he     rode.        Her 

fathL-r  said 
That  there  between  the  man  and  beast 

thev  die.  ,  .    ,      ,     i 

Shall  I  not  lift  he-  from  this  land  ot 

beasts  . ,     i        ■  i 

Up   to   my   throne,   and  side  by  siJe 

with  me? 
What    happiness    to    reign    a    lonely 

Yfxt O  ye  stars  that  shudder  over 

me,  , 

O  earth  that  soundest  hollow  under 

me. 


me,  ,   , 

Vext  with  waste  dreams!'  for  saving 

I  be  join'd 
To    her    that    is    the    fairest    under 

heaven, 
I    seem    as    nothing    in    the    mighty 

world. 
And  cannot  will  my  will,  nor  work 

mv  work 
Wholly,    nor    make    myscU    m    mine 

own   realm  ,    .   .  , , 

Victor  and  lord.     But  uere  I  join  d 

with  her, 
Then  might  we  live  together  as  one 

life. 
And  reigning  with  one  wd!  m  every- 
thing 


Ha^-e    power    on    this   dark    land    to 

lighten  it, 
And    power   on    this   dead   world    to 

make  it  live." 

Thereafter  —  as  he  speaks  who  tells 

the  tale  —  .  ,  ,     ,  , 

When  Arthur  reach'd  a  held-of-b.nt- 

tle  bright  ,  ,  •    r         i 

With  pitch'd  pavilions  of  his  ioe,  the 

world  , 

Was  all  so  clear  ahm.t  him,  that  he 

saw  ,      ,  • 

The  smallest  rock  far  on  the  faintest 

hill, 
And   even   in   high  day   the  morning 

So  w'hen  the  King  had  set  his  banner 
broad,  .  , 

At  once  from  either  side,  with 
trumpet-blast, 

And  shouts,  and  clarions  shrilling 
unto  blood, 

The  long-lanccd  battle  let  their  horses 

run.  ,     .      1  ■ 

And   now  the  Barons  and  the  kings 

provail'd. 
And  now  the  King,  as  here  and  there 

that  war 
Went  swaying;  but  the  Powers  who 

walk  the  world 
Made  lightnings  and  great  thunders 

over  him, 
And    dazed   all   eyes,   till   Arthur  by 

main  might. 
And  mightier  of  his  hands  with  every 

blow. 
And  leading  all  his  knighthood  threw 

the  kings 
Cavddos,      Urien,      Cradlemont      of 

Claudias,  and  Clanance  of  Northum- 
berland, 
'I  he  King  Brandagoras  of  Latangor, 
With  Ang\iisant  of  Erin,  Morganore, 
And  Lot  of  Orkney.  Then,  before  a 
voice 


THE  COMING  OF  ARTHL  R 


As  dreadful  as  the  shout  of  one  who     Debating — "  How  should  I  that  am 


sees 


a  king, 


To  one  who  sins,  and  deems  himself      However   much    he    h' 


lie 


need. 


0   me   at   my 


And     all     the     world     asleep,     they  Give   my   one   daughter   saving   to   a 

swerved  and  brake  king, 

Flying,  and  Arthur  call'd  to  stay  the  And  a  king's  son?  " — lifted  his  voice, 

brands  and  call'd 

That  hack'd  among  the  flyers,  "Ho!  A    hoary    man,    his    chamberlain,    to 

they  yield!  "  whom 

So  like  a  painted  battle  tlie  war  stood  He   trusted    all    things,    and    of   him 

Silenced,  the  living  quiet  as  the  dead,  required 

And  in  the  heart  of  Arthur  joy  was  His  counsel:     "  Knowest  thou  aught 


lord. 

He  laugh'd  upon  his  warrior  whom 
he  loved 

And  honor'd  most.  "  Thou  dost  not 
doubt  me  King, 

So  well  thine  arm  hath  wrought  for 
me   to-day." 

"  Sir  and  my  liege,"  he  cried,  "  the 
fire  of  God 

Descends  upon  thee  in  the  battle- 
field: 

I  kno«-  thee  for  my  King!  "  Where- 
at the  two. 

For  each  had  warded  either  in  the 
fight, 

Sware  on  the  field  nf  death  a  death- 
less  love. 

And  Arthur  said,  "  Man's  word  is 
God  in  man : 

Let  chance  what  will,  I  trust  thee  to 
the  death." 

Then    quickly    from    the    foughten 

field  he  sent 
Ultius,  and  Brastias,  and  Bedivere, 
His  new-made  knights,  to  Ki.ig  Lco- 

dogran. 
Saying,   "  H   I   in  aught  have  sen'ed 

thee  well, 
Give  me  thy  daughter  Guinevere  to 

wife." 


of  Arthur's  birth? 

Then  spake  the  hoary  chamberlain 
and  said, 
"  Sir  King,  there  be  but  two  old  men 

that  know : 
And  each  is  twic'  as  old  as  I ;  and 

one 
Is   Merlin,   the   wise   man   thut   ever 

served 
King  Uther  thro'  his  magic  art;  and 

one 
Is  Merlin's  master  (so  they  call  bim) 

Bleys, 
Who    taught    him    magic ;    but    the 

scliolar  ran 
Before   the  master,   and   so   far,   that 

Bleys, 
Laid   magic   by,   and   sat   him   down, 

and  wrote 
All  things  and  whatsoever  Merlin  did 
In  one  great  annal-book,  where  after- 
years 
Will  learn  the  secret  of  our  Arthur's 

birth." 


To  whom  the  King  Leodogran  re- 
plied, 
"  O  friend,  had  I  been  holpen  half  as 

well 
By  this  King  Arthur  as  by  thee  to- 
day, 
Whom  when  he  heard    Leodogran     Then   beast  and   man   had   had   their 
in  heart  share  of  me: 


!r 


't 


^' 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


i8o 

But  summon  here  before  us  yet  once 

more  ,    ,,    ,• 

Ulfms,  and   Brastias,  and   Bedivere. 

Then,  when  they  came  before  him, 
the  King  said, 

"  I  have  seen  the  cuckoo  chased  by 
lesser  fowl. 

And  reason  in  the  chase:  but  where- 
fore now 

Do  these  your  lords  stir  up  the  heat 
of  war. 

Some  calling  Arthur  born  of  Gorlois, 

Others  of  Anton?     Tell  me,  ye  your- 

Hold  ye  this  Arthur  for  King  Uther's 
son  . 

And  Ulf^us  and  Brastias  answer'd, 

"  Aye." 
Then    Bedivere,   the   first    of    all   his 

knights 
Knighted  by  Arthur  at  his  crowning, 

spake  —  , 

For  bold  in  heart  and  act  and  word 

was  he, 
Whenever    slander    breathed    against 

the  King  — 


"Sir,  there  be  many  rumors  on  this 

head:  i-      • 

For  there  be  those  who  hate  him  in 

their  hearts. 
Call  him  bascborn,  and  since  his  ways 

are  sweet, 
And  theirs  are  bestial,  hold  him  less 

than  man: 
And   there  be   those  who   deem   him 

more  than  man, 
And    dream   he   dropt    from   heaven: 

hut  my  beliff 
In    all    this   matter  — so   ye   care    to 
learn  —  ,,  .     • 

Sir,  for  ye  know  that  in  King  Uther  s 

time  r^     \         u 

The  prince  and  warrior  Gorlois,   he 

that  held 
Tintagil  castle  by  the  Cornish  sea, 


Was  wedded  with  a  winsome  wife, 

Ygcrne: 
And  daughters  had  she  borne  him,— 

one  whereof,  ,    ,^  , 

Lot's    wife,    the    Queen    of    Orkney, 

Bellicent, 
Hath  ever  like  a  loval  sister  cleaved 
To  Arthur,— but  a  son  she  had  not 

borne. 
And  Uther  cast  upon  her  eyes  of  love: 
But  she,  a  stainless  wife  to  Gorlois, 
So  loathed  the  bright  dishonor  of  his 

love. 
That  Gorlois  and  King  Uther  went 

to  war:  ^    ,  ■■  i 

And    overthrown    was    Gorlois    and 

slain. 
Then   Uther  in  his  wrath  and  heat 

besieged 
Ygcrne   within   Tintagil,   where    Her 

men,  . 

Seeing  the  mighty  swarm  about  their 

Left^er  ^d  fled,  and  Uther  enter'd 

in,  , 

And   there  was  none  to  call  to  but 

himself. 
So,   compass'd  by   the   power  of   the 

King,  . 

Enforced  she  was  to  w^ed  him  in  her 

tears. 
And     with     a    shameful     swiftness: 

afterward, 
Not  many  moons.   Kin?  Uther  died 

himself,  . 

Moaning  and  wailinp  for  an  heir  to 

rule 
After  him,  lest  the  realm  should  go  to 

wrack. 
And  that  same  night,  the  night  of  the 

new  year,  . 

By  reason  of  the  bitterness  and  griet 
That  vext  his  mother,  all  before  his 

time 
Was  Arthur  born,  and  all  as  soon  as 

born 
Deliver'd  at  a  secret  postern-gate 
To  Merlin,  to  be  holden  far  apart 


THE  COMING  OF  ARTHUR 


i8i 


Until  his  hour  should  come;  because  If  Arthur  were  the  child  of  shame- 

the  lords  fuhiess, 

Of  that  fierce  day  were  as  the  lords  Or   born    the   son   of   Gorlois,    after 

of  this,  death, 

Wild  beasts,  and  surely  would  have  Or  Uthcr's  son,  and  born  before  his 

torn  the  child  time. 

Piecemeal  among  them,  had  they  Or  whether  there  were  truth  in  any- 
known  ;  for  each  tiling 

But  sought  to  rule  for  his  own  self  Said   by   these   three,    there   came   to 

and  hand,  Cameliard, 

And  many  hated  Uther  for  the  sake  With   Gawain    and    young    Modred, 

Of  Gorlois.     Wherefore  Merlin  took  her  two  sons, 


the  child. 
And  gave  him  to  Sir  Anton,  an  old 

knight 
And  ancient  friend  of  Uther;  and  his 

wife 
Nursed  the  young  prince,  and  rear'd 

him  with  her  own  ; 
And  no  man  knew.     And  ever  since 

the  lords 
Have  foughten  like  wild  beasts  among 

themselves. 
So  that  the  realm  has  gone  to  wrack; 

but  now. 
This  year,  when  Merlin  (for  his  hour 

had  come) 
Brought  Arthur  forth,  and  set  him  in 

the  hall. 
Proclaiming,    '  Here   is   Uther's  heir, 

your  king,' 
A  hundred  voices  cried,  '  Away  with 

him! 


Lot's    wife,    the    Queen    of    Orkney, 

Bellicent ; 
Whom  as  he  could,  not  as  he  would, 

the  King 
Made  feast   for,  saying,   as   they  sat 

at  meat, 
"  A  doubtful  throne  is  ice  on  summer 

seas. 
Ye  come  from  Arthur's  court.     Vic- 
tor his  men 
Report    him!     Yea,    but    ye  —  think 

ye  this  king  — 
So  many  those  that  hate  him,  and  so 

strong, 
So    few    his    knights,    however    brave 

they  be  — 
Hath  body  enow  to  hold  his  foemen 

down .'  " 

"  O  King,"  she  cried,  "  and  I  will 
tell  thee:  few. 


No  king  of  ours!   a  son  of  Gorlois  Few,  but  all  brave,  all  of  one  mind 

he,  with  him ; 

Or  else  the  child  of  Anton,  and  no  For  I  was  near  him  when  the  sav;ige 

king,  yells 

Or  else  baseborn.'     \'et  Merlin  thro'  Of  Uther's  peerage  died,  and  Arthur 

his  craft,  sat 
And  \\hile  the  people  clamor'd  for  a  Crown'd   on   the   dais,   and   his  war- 
king,  riors  cried, 
Had  Arthur  crown'd ;  but  after,  the  '  Be  thou  the  king,  and  we  will  work 

great  lords  thy  will 

Handed,   and    so   brake  out   in    open  Who  love  thee.'     Then  the  King  in 

^■3r.  low  deep  tones, 

.              ^_  -And  simple  words  of  great  authority, 

Then  while  the  King  debated  with  Bound  them  bv  so  strait  vows  to  his 

himself  own   self,' 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KL\G 


182 

That  when  they  rose,  kniKhted  from 

kneeling,  some 
Were    nalc    as   at    the    passini;    ot    a 

ghost, 
Some    flush'd,    and    oilicrs   dazed,    as 

one  who  wakes 
Half-blinded  at  the  coming  ot  a  light. 

"But  when  he  spake  and   theer'd 

his  Table  Round 
With  large,   divine,   and  comfortable 

words. 
Beyond   my   tongue   to   tell   thee  —  1 

beheld  ,    ,    .    .^   , 

From  eve  lo  eye  thro'  all  their  Order 

flash 

A  momentary'  likeness  of  the  King. 

And  ere  it  left  their  faces,  thro  the 
cross 

And  those  around  it  and  the  Cruci- 
fied, 

Down  from  the  casement  over 
Arthur,  smote 

Flame-color,  vert  and  azurt,  in  tlirce 

ravs,  .  . 

One  falling  upon  each  of  three   fair 

queens,  . 

Wht  stood  in  silence  near  his  throne, 

the  friends 
Of  Arthur,  gazing  on  him,  tall,  with 

bright 
Sweet  faces,  who  will  help  him  at  his 

need. 

"And   there   I   saw  mage  Merlin, 

whose  vast  wit 
And  hundred  winters  are  but  as  the 

hands  . 

Of    loyal    vassals    toiling    for    their 

liege. 

"  And  near  him  stood  the  Lady  of 
the  Lake, 

Who  knows  a  subtler  magic  than  his 
own  — 

Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  won- 
derful. 


She    gave    the    King   his   huge   cross- 

hilted  sword, 
Whereby   to   drive   the  heathen   out: 

a  mist 
( )f  incense  curl'd  about  her,  and  her 

face 
Wcllnigh  was  hidden  in  the  minster 

i^'°"'" '        ,        ,  111. 

Hut  there  was  heard  among  the  holj 

hymns 
A    voice    as    of    the   waters,    for   she 

dwells 
Down   in   a   deep;  calm,   whatsoever 

storms 
NLiy  shake  the  world,  and  when  tlie 

surface   rolls. 
Hath  power  to  walk  the  watc:,  like 

our   Lord. 

"  There  'ikewise  I  beheld  Excalibur 
Before    him    at    his   crowning   borne, 

the  sword 
That  rose  from  out  the  bosom  of  the 

lake. 
And    Arthur   row'd   across   and   took 

it  —  rich 
With    jewels,    elfin    Urim,    on    the 

hilt, 
Bewildering     heart     and     eye  —  the 

blade  so  bright 
That  men  are  blinded  by  it  —  on  one 

side, 
Graven   in    the   oldest   tongue  ot   all 

this  world, 
'Take  me,'  but   turn   the  blade  and 

ye  shall  see, 
And  written   in   the  speech  ye  speak 

yourself, 
'  Cast    me    away ! '     And    sad    was 

Arthur's  face 
Taking  it,  bu*^  old  Merlin  counsel  d 

him, 
'Take  thou  and  svrike!  the  time  to 

cast  away 
Is  yet   far-of?.'     So  this  great  brand 

the  king  . 

Took,  an  1  by  this  will  Heat  his  foe- 
men  down. 


THE  COMING  OF  ARTHUR 


183 


Thereat    Leodogran    rcjniced,    but 

thought 
To  sift  his  (loubtini^s  to  the  last,  and 

ask'd, 
Fixinp    full    eyes   of   question    on    her 

face, 
"  The  s«allo>v  and  the  swift  arc  near 

akin, 
Hut    ihou    art    closer    to    thii^    noble 

prince, 
IJeinK  his  own  dear  sister;"  and  she 

said, 

"  Dau;.'hter    of    Gorlois    and    ^'gerne 
I    " 

"And     tlierefore     Arthur's     sister?" 

ask'd   the    Kinj;. 
She     ansver'd,      "  These     be     secret 

things,"   and   sij^n'd 
To  thase   two  sons   to   pass,   and   let 

them   be. 
And  Gawain  v\cnt,  and  breaking  into 

song 
Sprang  out,  and   foUow'd  by  his  fly- 
ing hail 
Ran  like  a  colt,  and  leapt  at  all  he 

saw : 
But   Modred   laid   his  ear  beside  the 

doors. 
And  there  hulf-heard;  the  same  that 

afterward 
Struck    for   the   throne,   and   striking 

found  his  doom. 

And  then  the  Queen  made  answer, 

"What   know   I? 
For  dark  my  mother  was  in  eyes  and 

hair 
And  dark  in  hair  and  eyes  am  I ;  and 

dark 
Was    Gorlois,     yea    and    dark    was 

Uthcr,  too, 
Wellnigh  to  blackness;  but  this  King 

is  fair 
Beyond    the   race  of   Britons  and   of 

men. 
Moreover,  always  in  my  mind  I  hear 
A  crv  from  out  the  dawning  of  my 

life. 


A  mother  weeping,  and  I  hear  her 

say, 
'  ()  that  ye  had  some  brother,  pretty 

one. 
To  guard  thee  on  the  rough  ways  of 

the  world.'  " 


"  Aye,"  said  the  King,  "  and  hear 
ye  such  a  cry  ? 
But   when    did    Arthur   chance   upon 
thee  firsr?  " 

"OK,!"  she  cried,  "and  I  will 

tell   thee   true: 
He   found   me   first  when  yet  a  little 

maid : 
Beaten  I  had  been  for  a  little  fault 
Whereof  I  was  not  guilty;  and  out  I 

ran 
And  flung  myself  down  on  a  bank  of 

heath, 
And    hated    this    fair    world   and    all 

therein. 
And    wept,   and    wish'd   that    I   were 

dead ;  and   he  — 
I    know   not   whether   of   himself   he 

came. 
Or    brought    by    Merlin,    who,    they 

say,  can  walk 
Unseen  at  pleasure  —  he  was  at  my 

side, 
And    spake    sweet    words,    and    com- 
forted my  heart. 
And    dried    my   tears,    being   a   child 

with  me. 
And  many  a  time  he  came,  and  ever- 
more 
As   I    grew   greater   grew   with   me; 

and  sad 
At  times  he  seem'd,  and  sad  with  him 

was  I, 
Stern  too  at  times,  and  then  I  loved 

him  not. 
But  sweet   again,   and   then    I    loved 

him  well. 
Ai.d    low  of  late  I  see  him  less  and 

less, 


1 84 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


But  those  first  days  had  ^^olden  hours 

for  m.', 
For  then  1  surely  thoui;ht  lie  would 

he  king. 

"  But  let  me  tell  thee  now  another 

tale . 
For   Bleys,    our    Merlin's   master,   as 

they  say. 
Died  but  of  late,  and  sent  his  cry  to 

me, 
To  hear  him  speak  he  fore  he  left  his 

life.  ,.        , 

Shrunk    like    a    fairy   changeling    lay 

the  mage; 
And    when    1    enter'd    told    me    that 

himself 
And    Merlin   ever   served    about   the 

King, 
Uther,   before  he   died;   and   on    tlie 

night 
When    Uther   in  Tintagil  past  away 
Moaning  and  wailing  tor  an  heir,  the 

two 
Left  the  still  King,  and  passing  forth 

to  breathe. 
Then  from  the  castle  gateway  by  the 

chasm 
Descending  thro'  the  dismal  night  — 

a  night 
In   which   the  bounds  of  heaven  and 

earth  were  lost  — 
Beheld,  so  high  upon  the  dreary  deeps 
It  seem'd  in  heaven,  a  ship,  the  shape 

thereof 
A  dragon  wing'd,  and  all  from  stem 

to  stern 
Bright  with  a  shining  people  on  the 

decks. 
And  gone  as  soon  as  seen.     And  then 

the  two 
Dropt  to  the  cove,  and   watch'd  the 

great  sea  fall. 
Wave  after  wave,  each  mightier  than 
the  last,  , . 

Till  last,  a  ninth  one,  gathering  ha.t 
the  deep 


And   full  of  voices,  slowly  rose  and 

plunged 
Roaring,  and  all  the  wave  was  in  a 

tlame : 
And  down  the  wave  and  in  the  tlame 

was  borne 
A  naked  babe,  and   rode  to   Merlin's 

feet, 
Who  stoopt  ami  caught  the  babe,  and 

cried  '  The  King! 
}lere   is   an    heir    for    Uther!'     And 

the  fringe 
Of   that    great   breaker,   sweeping   up 

the  strand, 
Lash'd  at  the  wizard  as  he  spake  tlie 

word, 
And  all  at  once  all  round  him   rose 

in  fire, 
So  that  the  child  and  he  were  clothed 

in    fire. 
And     presently     thereafter     follow  d 

calm. 
Free     sky     and     stars:     'And     this 

same  child,'  he  said, 
'  Is  he  who  reigns;  nor  could  I  part 

in  peace 
Till    this    were    told.'     And    s.iying 

this  the  seer 
Went   thro'    the   strait   and    dreadful 

pass  of  death. 
Not  ever  to  be  question'd  any  more 
Save  on   the   further  side;  but  when 

I  met 
Merlin,  and  .isk'd  him  if  these  things 

w  ere   truth  — 
The   shining   dragon    and    the   naked 

child 
Descending  in  the  glor>-  of  the  seas  — 
He  laugh'd  as  is  his  wont,  and   an- 

swer'd  me 
In  riddling  triplets  of  old  time,  and 
said: 


"  '  Rain,  rain,  and  sun!  a  rainbow 
in  the  sky! 
A  \()ung  man  will  be  sviser  by  and 
■  by; 


l  HE  COMING  OF  ARIHUR 


i«5 


An   old   man's  wit   may  wander  ere 
he  die. 

Rain,  rain,  and  sun!  a  rainbow  on 

the   lea! 
And  iruth  is  this  to  me,  and  that  to 

thee ; 
And  truth  or  clothed  or  naked  let  it 

be. 

Rain,  sun,  and  rain !  and  the  free 

blossom  blows : 
Sun,  rain,  and  sun  I  and  where  is  he 

who  Irnous? 
From  the  great  deep  to  the  great  deep 

he  goes.' 

"So    Merlin    riddling  anger'd   me; 

but  thou 
Fear  not  to  give  this  Kin;;  thine  only 

child, 
Guinevere:    £•)    great    bards    of    him 

will  sing 
Hereafter;  and  dark  savings  from  of 

old 
Ranging  and  ringing  thro'  the  minds 

of  men, 
And  echo'd  b\-  old   folk  beside  their 

(ires 
For   comfort   after    their   wage-work 

is  done. 
Speak  of   the   King;   and    Merlin    in 

our  time 
Plath    spoken    also,   not    in   jest,   and 

sworn 
Tho'   men   may  wound   him   that  he 

will  not  die, 
But  pass,  again  to  come;  anci  then  or 

now 
Utterly  smite  the  heathen  underfoot, 
Till  these  and  all  men  hail  him  for 

their  king." 

She  spake  and  King  Leodogran  re- 
joiced, 
But  musing  "  Shall  I  answer  yea  or 


nay 


7    3     " 


Doubted,   and    drowsed,   nodded   and 

slcDt,  and  saw, 
Dreaming,  a  slope  of  land  tliat  ever 

grew. 
Field  after  field,  up  to  a  height,  the 

peak 
Haze-hidd"n,  and  thereon  a  phantom 

king, 
Now  looming,  and  now  lost ;  and  on 

the   slope 
The   sword    rose,   the   hind    fell,    the 

herd  was  driven. 
Fire  glimpsed;  and  all  the  land  from 

roof  and   rick. 
In   drifts  of  smoke  before   a   rolling 

\\ind, 
Strcam'd    to   tlie   peak,    and    mingled 

w  ith   the   haze 
And  made  it  thicker;  while  the  phan- 
tom king 
Sent  out  at  times  a  voice;  and  here 

or  there 
Stood   one   who   pointed    toward    the 

voice,   the  rest 
Slew  on  and  burnt,  crying,  "  No  king 

of   ours. 
No  son   of    Utile  r.    and    no   king   of 

ours ;  " 
Till    with    a    wink    his    dream    was 

changed,   the   haze 
Descended,    and    the   solid    earth    be- 
came 
As  nothing,  but  the  King  stood  out 

in  heaven, 
Crown'd.     And     Leodogran     awoke, 

and  sent 
Ulfius,  and  Brastias  and   Bedivere, 
Back  to  the  court  of  Arthur  answer- 
ing yea. 

Then  Arthur  charged  his  warrior 

whom  he  loved 
And  honor'd   most,   Sir   Lancelot,   to 

ride    forth 
And  bring  the  Queen  ;  —  and  watch'd 

him   from   the   gates. 
And   Lancelot  past  away  among  the 

flowers. 


i86 


IDYLLS  OF   rUL  KLNCJ 


(For  then  was  lattt-r  Apiil)   ami  r<- 

turn'd 
Amont;    the    tlowrrs,    Iti    Ma\,    with 

Guinevrre. 
To    whom    arrived,    by    Dubric    the 

high  saint, 
Chief  of  the  churcli   in   Britain,  and 

before 
The  stateliest  of  her  altar-shrini-.,  the 

King 
That    morn    was    married,    while    in 

stainless  white, 
The     fair     beginners     of     a     nobler 

time,  . 

And  glorying  in  their  vows  and  turn, 

his  knights 
Stood  round  him,  and  rejoicing  m  his 

joy.  , 

Far  shone  the  fields  of  May  thro  open 

door, 
The  sai:red  altar  blossom'd  white  with 

Mav,  ,    . 

The  Sun  of  May  descended  on  their 

King, 
They  gazed  on  all  earth  s  beauty  in 

their  Queen, 
RoU'd   incense,  and  there  pa^t  along 

the  h\nins 
A  voice  as  of  the  waters,  while   the 

two 
Sware    at    the    shrine    of    Christ    a 

deathless   love: 
And  Arthur  said,  "  Behold,  thy  doom 

is  mine. 
Let  chance  what  will,  I  love  thee  to 

the  death!  " 
To   whom    the    Queen    replied    with 

drooping  eves, 
"  King  and   my  lord,   I   love   thee   to 

the  death !  " 
And    holy    Dubric   spread    his   hands 

and  spake. 
"  Reign   ye,   and   live   and   love,   and 

make  the  world 
Other,   and   may   thy   Quoen   be   one 

with  thee. 
And    all    this    Order    of    thy    Table 
Round 


Fullil  the  boundless  purpose  of  their 
King!" 

S(,  Uubric  Slid ;  but  u  hen  they  left 
the  sliiine 
(Ireat    Lonls    from    Rome   before   the 
portal   stood. 

In   scornful    stillness   gazing   as   they 
past ; 

Then  while  they  paced  a  city  all  on 
fire 

With  sun  an.l  cloth  of  gold,  the  trum- 
pets  blew. 

And    .Arthur's    knighthood    sang    be- 
fore tlie  King:  — 

"  Blow   trumpet,    for   tlie   world    is 

white  with  Ma>  ; 
Blow    trumpet,    the    long   night    hath 

nill'd  away! 
Blow   thro'   the   living   world  — '  Let 

the  King  reign.' 

"  Shall   Rome  or   Heathen   rule   in 

Arthur's    realm? 
Flash  brand  and   lance,   fall   battleax 

upon  helm. 
Fall  battleax,  and   flash  brai.al      Let 

the  King  reign. 

"  Strike  for  the  Kirig  and  live!  his 

kniglits  have  heard 
That    God    hath    told    the    King    a 

secret  word. 
Fall  battleax,  and  flash  brand!     Let 

the  King  reign. 

"Blow    trumpet!    he    will    lift    us 

from  the  dust. 
Blow  trumpet!  live  th^  strength  and 

die   the   lust! 
Clang    battleax,     and     clash     brand! 

Let  the  King  reign. 

"  Strike  for  the  King  and  die!  and 
if  thou   diest. 
The  King  is  King,  and  ever  wills  the 

highest. 


G ARK  in  AxND  LYNEITE 


.87 


Clanc    battleax,     and    clrish     brami ! 
Let   tlic   Kiiiy   riigii. 

"  Blow,   for  our  Sun  is  miKhty  '1; 

his  May! 
Blow,    for   our    Sun    is   miuhtier    day 

by  day ! 
Clang    battU'ax,     and    clash     brand! 

Let  the   King  reign. 

"The    King    will    follow    Christ, 

and  we  the  King 
In  whom  high  God  hath  breathed  a 

secret  thing. 
Fall  battleax,  and  flash  brand !     Let 

the  King  reign." 

So  sang  the  knighthood,  .novint,  to 

their  hall. 
There    at    the    banquet    those    great 

Lords   from    Rome, 
The    slowly-fading    mistress    of    the 

world, 
Strode   in,   and   claim'd   their   tribute 

as  of  yore. 


But  Arthur  spake,  "  Behold,  for  these 

have  sworn 
To  wage  my  wars,  and  worship  me 

their  King; 
The    old    order    ch.i       th,    yielding 

place  to  new  ; 
And  we  that  fight  for  our  fair  father 

Christ, 
Seeing   that   ye   be    grown    too   weak 

and  old 
To    drive    the    heathen     from    your 

Rciman  wall, 
No   tribute   will   we   pay:"  so  those 

great   lords 
Drew    back    in    wrath,    and    Arthur 

strove  with  Rome. 

And    Arthur    and    his    knighthood 

for  a  space 
Were   all    one   will,    and    thro'    that 

strength  the  King 
Drew  in  the  petty  princedoms  under 

him, 
Fought,  and   in  twelve  great  battles 

overcame 
The    heathen    hordes    and    made    a 

realm  and  reign'd. 


THE  ROUND  TABLE 


GARETH    AND   LYNETTE 
THE    MARRIAGE    OF    GERAINT 
CERAINT    AM)     EMO 
BAI.I.V    AND    BALAN 
.MERLIN    AND   VIVIEN 

GARETH  AND  LYNETTE 

The  last  tall  son  of  Lot  and  Belli- 
cent, 

And  tallest,  Garcth,  in  a  showerful 
spring 

Stared  at  the  spate.  A  slender- 
shafted   Pine 

Lost  footing,  fell,  and  so  was  whirl'd 
awav. 


lancelot  and  elainb 
the  holy  grail 
pelleas  and  ETTARRE 
the  last  tournament 
gui.nfvere 

"  How  he  went  down,"  said  Gareth, 
"  as  a  false  knight 

Or  evil  king  before  my  lance  if 
lance 

Were  mine  to  use  —  O  senseless  cata- 
ract, 

Bearing  all  down  in  thy  precipi- 
tancy — 

And  yet  thou  art  but  swollen  with 
cold  snows 


1 88 


IDYIJS  ()!•   niK   KING 


Atul   iiimr   is  livii.^  blcioil ;   tliou  iln^t 

l\,s    VmII, 

Tlic   Maker's,  aiui    imt   know  est,   and 

1    that   kiui\\, 
Have  sticn^tli   and   wit,   in   nn    uixnl 

niiitlicr's  hall 
Lingpr    nitli    vaiillatint;    ntu'ilu'iicf, 
PrisonM,    aiul    k<pt    ami    loax'il    aiul 

wliisticd   to — 
Sinic  till-  uihkI  motluT  Imlils  nic  btill 

a  chilli! 
Good  motluT  i>  had  mother  unto  nic! 
A   worse   were   better;   yet   no   worse 

wouhl  I. 
Heaven  yield   her   for   it,   hut   in   me 

put  forte 
To  \\eary  tier  ears  with  one  continu- 
ous prayer, 
Until  she  let  me  fly  <liscacpd  to  swetp 
In  ever-hiKherinR  ea^'le-circles  up 
To    the    great    iiun    of    Glory,    and 

thence  swoop 
DovMi  upon  all  things  base,  and  dash 

them  dead, 
A  knij:ht  of  Arthur,  workInK  out  his 

wi'l. 
To    cL-ansc    the    world.     Why,    Ga- 

wain,  when  he  came 
With  Modred  hither  in  the  summer- 
time, 
Ask'd  me  to  tilt  with  him.  the  proven 

knight. 
Modred  for  want  of  worthier  was  the 

judt:e. 
Then    I   so  shook  him   in   the  saddle, 
he  said. 
Thou    hast    half    prevail'd    against 
nie,'  said  so  —  he  — 
Tho'  Modred  biting  his  thin  lips  was 

mute, 
For  he  is  alway  sullen :  what  care  I  ?  " 

And    Gareth    went,    and    hovering 

round  her  chair 
Ask'd,    "  Mother,    tho'   ye   count   me 

still  the  child. 
Sweet  mother,  do  ye  love  the  child  ?  " 

She  laugh'd, 


"  1  hi  u  art  hut  a  wild-goose  to  ques- 
tion  It." 

" 'I'lien,  mother,  an  \e  love  the 
child,"  he  said, 

"  Heing  a  goose  an.l  rather  tame  than 
uild, 

Hear  the  child's  stor\."  "  "»  ca,  my 
well-heloved, 

An  'twere  hut  of  the  gou>e  .md  golden 

tiJKS-" 


And    (iareth    answer'd     lur    with 
kiniiling  eyes, 
"  Nay,    nay,    good    mother,    but    this 

egg  of  mine 
Was   liner   gold   than   an\    goost'  can 

hn  : 
I'or    til  is    an    Kagle,    a    royal    Kagle, 

laid 
Almost  fieyond   eye-reach,   on  such   a 

palm 
As    glitters    gilded    in    thy    Unok    ot 

Hours. 
And   there  was  ever  haunting  round 

the  palm 
A  lusty  youth,  but  poor,   who  often 

saw 
The    splendor   sparkling    from    aloft, 

and  thought 
'  An  I  could  climb  and  lay  my  hand 

upon  it. 
Then  were  I  wealthier  than  a  leash 

of  kings." 
But  ever  when  he  reach'd  a  hand  to 

climb, 
One,    that   had    loved    him    from    his 

childhood,    caught 
And    stay'd     him,    "  Climb    not    lest 

thou  break  thy  neck, 
I  charge  thee  by  my  love  "  and  so  the 

boy, 
Sweet    mother,    neither    clomb,    nor 

brake  his  neck. 
Hut   brake  his  very  heart  in   pining 

for  it, 
Aiid  past  away." 


(.ARhiH  AM)  lvnl:i  ii; 


189 


To  whom  thr  niotlirr  saiii, 
"True    love,    sweet    sun,    liail    rislt  tl 

himself   and  ilimbM, 
And  handed  down  the  jjulden  treasure 

t )  him." 

And     ( iaretli     answer'd     !ii  r    with 

kmdiinv;  e\es, 
"  Ciold  .'    said     1     L'cdd  ?- —  aye,     tlien, 

why  he,  or  she. 
Or  ^^llo^(le'er  it  ua'-,  or  lialf  the  uuiM 
Had     ventured  —  htui     the     tiling     1 

spake  of  been 
Mere  K"ld  —  but  tins  was  all  of  that 

true  steel, 
Whereof      they      fort;ed      the    biand 

Kvcalibur, 
And  linhtnint;s  piayM  about  it  in  the 

storm, 
And  all  the  little  fowl  were  Hurried 

at  it, 
And   there   were  cries   and   clashings 

in  the  nest, 
That   sent   him   from   his  senses:    let 

ine  go." 

Then     Bellicent    bemoan'd    herself 

and  said, 
"  Hast  thou  no  pity   .  .on  my  h)neli- 

ne'is  ? 
Lo,  where  thy  father  Lot  beside  the 

hearth 
Lies  like  a  Ion,  and  all  but  smolder'd 

out! 
For  ever  since   when    traitor   to   the 

Kinu 
He  fought  against  him  in  the  Barons' 

war, 
And  Arthur  gave  him  back  his  terri- 
tory, 
His  age  hath  slowly  droopt,  and  now 

lies  there 
A  vet-warm  corpse,  and  yet  unburi- 

■  able. 
No   more;   nor   sees,    nor   hears,    nor 

speaks,  nor  knows. 
Ai'ii]  both  thy  brethren  ,.  e  in  Arttiur's 

hall. 


Albeit    neither    lovi'd    « itii    that    lull 

h,ve 
I    feel    for   thee,   nor   worthy   such   a 

love : 
Stay     therefore     thou;     red     ber.iei 

I  harm   tlie  bird. 
And   thee,   nune  innocent,   the  jnusts, 

the   v\ar-., 
Who  never  knew  est   (mger-ache,  nor 

pang 
Of    wrench'd    or    broken    limb  —  an 

often    (  ham  e 
In    tliose    brain-stunning   sh(Kks,    ami 

tourney-falls, 
Frights  to  my  heart;  but  stay:  follow 

tlie  deer 
By  the^e  tall  firs  and  our  fast-falling 

Inirn^ ; 
So   make   thy   maidiiKxl    mightier   ilay 

by  da>  ; 
Sweet  is  the  chase:   and   I   will  seek 

thee  out 
Some  comfortable  bride  and   fair,  tu 

grace 
Thy    climbing    life,    and    cherish    my 

prone  year, 
Till   falling   into   Lot's   forgetfulness 
I    know    not    thee,    myself,    nor    any- 
thing. 
Stay,  my  best  son!   ye  are  yet   more 

boy  than  man." 

Then  Garcth,  "  An  ye  hold  me  yet 

for  child, 
Hear  yet  once  more  the  story  of  the 

child. 
For,  mother,  there  was  once  a  King, 

lik"  ours. 
The   prints   his  heir,   when   tall   and 

marriageable, 
Ask'il  for  a  bride;  and  thereupon  the 

King 
Set  two  before  him.     One  was  fair, 

strong,    arm'd  — 
But  to  be  ^von  by  force  —  and  many 

men 
Desired  her ;  one,  good  lack,  no  man 

desired. 


'- 


190 


IDYLLS  OF   1  HL   KINCJ 


And  tlir<e  were  tlu-  i.uii,litions  of  tlif 

That  savr  he  uon  tlic   tlr^t  hy   tour, 

he  ni-fiU 
Must  wfd  th:U  other,  whom  no  man 

dfsircil, 
A   red-faced   hrlde   wlio   knew   lierselt 

so  vih-. 
That  evermore  ^he  hink;M  to  huh'  her- 
self, 
Nor   fronted   man   or   wonun,  eye   to 

eye  — 
Yea  —  some  she  cleaved  to,  but  they 

died  of  her. 
And    one  — they    call'd    her    tame; 

and  one,— ()  Mother, 
How  can  ye  keep  me  tetlier  a  to  you 

—  Shame. 
Man  am  I  grown,  a  man's  work  must 

I   do-  ,,    . 

Follow   the  deer?   follow  the  Christ, 

the   Kinc, 
Live  pure,   speak   true,   ri^ht  wrong, 

follow   the  King-— 
Else,  wherefore  born  .'  " 

To  whom  the  mother  said, 
"  Sweet  son,   for  there  be  many  who 

deem  him  not, 
Or  will  not  deem  him,  vvhollj'  proven 

King  — 
Albeit  in  mine  own  heart  I  knew  him 

King,  . 

When    I   was   frequent   with   him    in 

my  vouth. 
And    heard    him    Kingly   speak,    and 

doubted   him 
No  more  than  he,  himself:  but   felt 

him  mine, 
Of    closest    kin    to    me:    yet  — wilt 

thou  leave 
Thine  easeful   biding  here,   and    risk 

thine   all, 
Life,  limbs,  for  one  that  is  not  proven 

King? 
Stay,  till  the  cloud  that  settles  round 
his  birth 


Hath  lifted  but  a  little.      Stay,  sweat 


And     Ciareth      answer'd      (juickly, 

"  Not  an  hour, 
So   tliat    >e    yield    me  —  I    uiH    "alk 

thro'   fire. 
Mother,  to  gain  it  — your  full  leave 

to   go. 
Not    proven,    who   swept    the   dust    of 

niin'd    Rome 
From  off  tin-  threshohl  of  the  realm, 

and   crush'd 
Tlie    Idolaters,   and   made   the   in'.iple 

free? 
Who  should  he   Kiiig  save  him  who 

makes  us  free?  " 

So  when  the  Queen,  who  long  had 

sought  in  vain 
To    break    him    from    the    intent    to 

which  he  grew. 
Found    her    son's   will    unwaveringly 

one, 
She  answer'd  craftily,  "  Will  ye  walk 

thro'  tire? 
Who  walks  thro'  tire  will  hardly  heed 

the  sinoke. 
Aye,  go  then,  an  ye  must:  only  one 

proof, 
Hefore    thou    ask    the    King    to    make 

thee  knight. 
Of   thine   obedience  ami   thy   love   to 

Thy   mother, —  I    demand." 

And  Gareth  cried, 
"  A  hard  one,  or  a  humlred,  so  I  go. 
js'ay  —  quick!  the  proof  to  prove  me 
to  the  quick!  " 

But  slowly  spake  the  mother  look- 
ing at  '  im, 

•'  Prince,  tl.ou  shalt  go  disguised  to 
Arthur'^  hall, 

And  hire  thv-elf  to  serve  lor  meats 
and   drinks 


uAKi;rn  and  LVM:riE 


191 


Amonn  till-  Miillions  aiul  tlir  Ititclirn-  S^Mjit    brlldvv  inn    thro'    the   ilarkiirsj 

kii.ui'N,  *»>  to  >''>^^  "' 

And   thr)>r  that   liand    the  lll^h   iu  ro>,s  lie   rij>r,  aiicl   out  i)f  bluniher  callm;; 

the   har.  tuo 

Nor  ^half  ihnw  trll  th\    fiamr  tii  any-  That   »till    hail    trndrd    (in    hini    trnni 

one.  lii>  hirth, 

And   thiiii   shalt   MTV  I-  a   twelvriiionth  Mefore     tlir     walicful     mother     heard 


and   a  d.\y 

For  so  tlie  (Jiirrn  hlievej  that 
when   her  sun 

Helield  his  only  "  :i.V  tn  t;l(iry  h-ad 

Low  do«ti  thr(/  vilhiin  kitclien- 
vassala;:e, 

Her  own  ttur  (jarrth  vvas  too  prince- 
ly-proud 

To  pass  thereby ;  so  sliould  he  rest 
with  her, 

Closed  in  her  cast!.-  from  the  sound 
of  arms. 

Silent    awliile    was    Garetti,    then 

reph'ed, 
"  The  thrall  in  person  may  be  free  in 

soul, 
And   I  shall  see  the  jmists.     Thy  son 

am  I, 
And  since  thou  art  my  mother,  must 

obey. 
I    therefore    yield    me    freely    to    tliv 

will; 
For  hence  will   I,  disfjuised,  and  hire 

myself 
To    serve    with    scullions    ami    uith 

kitchen-knaves ; 
Nor  tell   mv   name  to  any  —  no,   not 

the  KinR." 


him,  went. 

The  three  were  clad  like  tillers  of 
the  soil. 

Southward  they  set  their  faces.  The 
birds  iiiadi 

.Melody  on  brincb,  and  melody  in 
mid  air. 

'I'lie  damp  lull-slopes  were  (niickrn'd 
into  ^rcen, 

And  the  li\e  urecii  hail  kinilled  into 
flowers, 

For  '..  was  past  the  time  of  Easter- 
day. 

So,    when    their    feet    uere   planted 

on  the  plain 
That    broaden'd    toward    the   base   of 

Catnelot, 
Far    off    till)     S.U.-    ibe    silver-misty 

morn 
K  dlinf^   her   smoke    about    the    Royal 

mount. 
That  rose  between  the  f(jrcst  and  the 

field. 
At  times  the  sumnn't  of  the  hi;;h  city 

Ihish'd; 
.At  times  the  spires  and   turrets  half- 
way dow  n 
Prick'd   thro'   th-  mist:  at   times  the 


greai    j^ate   shone 

Gareth  awhile  lin;ier'd.    The  moth-  Only,    that    open'd    on    the    field    be- 
er's eye  low : 

F^ill  of  the  wistful  fear  that  he  would  Anon,    the    whole    fair    city    had    dis- 

jro,                                                    _  appear'u. 

And  turninK  toward  him  wheresoe'er 

he  turn'd.  Then  those  who  went  with  Gareth 

Perplext  his  outward  purpose,  till  an  were   amazed, 

hour,  One  crvinp,   "  Let  us  po  no   further, 

When    waken'd   by   the   wind   which  lord. 

with  full  voice  Here  '•■  a  city  of  I^nchanters,  built 


192 

By  fairy  Kings."  The  second  echo'd 
him, 

"  Lord,  we  have  heard  from  our  wise 
man   at  home 

To  Northward,  that  this  King  is  not 
ihe  King, 

But  only  changeling  out  of  Fairy- 
land, 

Who  drave  the  heathen  hence  by 
sorcery 

And  Merlin's  glamour."  Then  the 
first  again, 

"  Lord,  there  is  no  such  city  any- 
where, 

But  all  a  vision." 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Gareth   answer'd    them 
With  laughter,  swearin^,  l.v.  hi  gla- 
mour enow 
In    his    own    blood,    his    princedom, 

youth  and  hopes. 
To  plunge  old  Merlin  in  the  Arabian 

sea ; 
So  push"d  them  all  unwilling  toward 

the  gate. 
And  there  was  no  gate  like  it  under 

heaven. 
For  barefoot  on  the  keystone,  which 

'.  as  lined 
And     rippled     like     an     ever-fleeting 

uave, 
The  Lady  of  the  Lake  stood :  all  her 

dress 
Wept  from  her  sides  as  water  flowing 

aw  ay ; 
But    like    the    cross    her    great    and 

goodly  arms 
Stretch'd   under   all   the  cornice   and 

uphe'd : 
And  drops  of  water  fell  from  either 

liand  ; 
And    down    from    one    a    sword    was 

hung,  from  one 
A  censer,  either  worn  v.ith  wind  and 

storm ; 
And  o'er  her  brea,,t  floated  the  sacred 
fish; 


And  in  the  space  to  left  of  her,  and 

right,  . 

Were  Arthur's  wars  in  weird  devices 

done. 
New  things  and  old  co-twisted,  as  if 

Time 
Were   nothing,   so   inveterately,   that 

men 
Were  giddy  gazing  there;  and  over 

all 
High    on    the   top   were   those   three 

Queens,  the  friends 
Of  yXrtiuir,  who  should  help  him  at 

hi.-  need. 

Then    those    with    Gareth    for    so 

long  a  space 
Stared  at  the  figures,  that  at  last  it 

seem'd 
The   dragon-boughts   and   elvish   rm- 

blemings 
Began    to    move,    seethe,    twine    and 

curl:  they  catl'd 
To  Gareth,   "  Lord,   the   gateway   is 

alive." 

And  Gareth  likewise  on  them  fixt 

his  eyes 
S(   long,  thit  ev'n  to  him  they  seem'd 

to  move. 
Out    of    the    city    a    blast    of    music 

peal'd. 
Back  from  the  gate  started  the  three, 

to  whom 
From  out  thereunder  came  an  ancient 

man, 
Long-bearded,   saying,  "  Who  be  ye. 


my  sons 


?  " 


Then   Gareth,   "We  be  tillers  of 

the  soil, 
WHio  leaving  share   in   furrow  come 

to  see 
The  glories  of  our  King:  but  these, 

my  men, 
(Your  city  moved  so  weirdly  'n  the 

mist) 


m% 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE 


193 


Doubt  if  the  King  be  King  at  all,  or 

come 
From  Fairj'land;  and  whether  tliis  be 

built 
By  magic,   and   by    fairy   Kings   and 

Queens ; 
Or  whether  there  be  any  city  at  all, 
Or  all  a  vision:  and  this  music  now 
Hath  scared  them  both,  but  tell  thou 

these  the  truth." 


Then   that  old   Seer  made  answer 

playing  on   hun 
And   saying,   "  Son,    I   hav..'   seen   the 

good  ship  sail 
Keel    upward,   and   mast    downward, 

in  tlie  heavens. 
And  solid  turrets  topsy-turvy  in  air: 
And  here   is  truth ;  but  an   it  please 

thee  not. 
Take   tliou    the    truth    as   thou   hast 

told  it  me. 
For    truly    as    thou    sayest,    a    Fairy 

King 
And    Fairy    Queens    have    built    the 

city,    son ; 
They  came  from  out  a  sacred  moun- 
tain-cleft 
Toward   the  sunrise,  each  with  harp 

in  hand, 
And   built  it  to   the   music  of  their 

harps. 
And,  as  thou  sayest,  :t  is  enchanted, 

son. 
For  there  is  nothing  in  it  as  it  seems 
Saving  the  King;  the'  some  there  be 

that  hold 
The    King   a   shadow,    and    the   city 

real: 
Yet   take  thou  heed  of  him,   for,  so 

thou  pass 
Beneath  this  archway,  then  wilt  thou 

become 
A  thrall  to  his  en'nantments,  for  the 

King 
Will  bind  thee  by  such  vows,  as  is  a 

shame 


A  man  should  not  be  bound  by,  yet 

the  which 
No  man  can  keep;  but,  so  thou  dread 

to  swear, 
Pass   not    beneath    this   gateway,    but 

abide 
Without,    among    the    cattle    of    the 

held. 
For  an  ye  heard  a  music,  like  enow 
They  are  building  still,  seeing  the  city 

is  built 
To  music,    therefore   never   built    at 

all. 
And  therefore  built  forever." 

Gareth  spake 
Anger'd,     "  Old     Master,     reverence 

thine  own  beard 
Tliat  looks  as  white  as  utter  trutli, 

and  seems 
Wellnigh  as  long  as  thou  art  statured 

tall! 
Why  mockest  thou  the  stranger  that 

hath  been 
To  thee  fair-spoken?" 

But    the    Seer    replied, 
"  Know  ye  not  then  the  Riddling  of 

the  Bards? 
'  Confusion,    and    illusion,    and    rela- 
tion. 
Elusion,  and  occasion,  and  evasion'? 
I  mock  thee  not  but  as  thou  mockest 

me, 
And   all   that  see  thee,   for  thou  art 

not  who 
Thou  seemest,  but  I  know  thee  who 

thou  art. 
And  now  thou  goest  up  to  mock  the 

King, 
Who  cannot  brook  the  shadow  of  any 

lie." 

Unmockingly    the    mocker    ending 
here 
Turn'd  to  the  right,  and  past  along 
the  plain; 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  RING 


194 

Whom  Garcth  looking  alter  said, 
"  My   nicn, 

Our  one  white  lie  sits  like  a  little 
ghost 

Here  on  the  threshold  of  our  enter- 
prise. .  I 

Let  love  be  blamed  for  it,  not  sae, 
nor  1 :  ^^ 

Woll,  we  will  make  amends. ' 

With  all  good  cheer 
He  spake   and   laugh'd,    then   enter'd 

with  his  twain 
Camelot,  a  city  of  shadowy  palaces 
And  stately,  rich  in  emblem  and  ti.: 

work 
Of  ancient  kings  who  did  their  days 

in  stune; 
Which   Merlin's  hand,  the  Mage  at 

Arthur's  court. 
Knowing  all  arts,   had   touch'd,   and 

every\.here 
At    Arthur's    ordinance,     tipt    with 

lessening  peak 
And  pinnacle,  and  had  made  it  spire 

to  heaven. 
And  ever  and  anon   a  knight  would 

Outward,  or  inward  to  the  hall:  his 

arms 
Clash'd;  and  the  sound  was  goi.d  to 

Gareth's  ear. 
And  out  of  bower  and  casement  shyly 

glanced 
Eyes  of  pure  women,  wholesome  stars 

of  love; 
And    all    about    a    healthful    people 

stept  . 

As  in  the  presence  of  a  gracious  king. 

Then  into  hall  Garcth  ascending 
heard 

A  voice,  the  voice  of  Artliur,  and  be- 
held 

Far  over  heads  in  that  long-vaulted 
hall  ^    , 

The  splendor  of  the  presence  ot  the 

King 


Throned,  and  delivering  doom  —  and 

look'd  no  more  — 
Hut  felt  his  young  heart  hammering 

in  his  ears. 
And  thought,  "  For  this  half-shadow 

of  a  lie 
The    truthful    King    will    doom    me 

when   1  speak." 
\'et  pressing  on,  tho'   all  in   fear  to 

tind 
Sir  Gawain  or  Sir  Modred,  saw  nor 

one 
Nor   other,   but   in    all    the    listening 

eyes 
Of    those    tall    knights,    that    ranged 

about  the  throne. 
Clear    honor   shining    like    the    dewy 

star 
Of   dawn,    and    faith    in    their   great 

King,  with  pure 
Affection,  and  the  light  of  victory, 
.And    glory    gain'd,   and   eve-'more   to 
gain. 

Then  came  a  widow  crying  to  the 

King, 
"A    boon.    Sir    King!     Thy    father, 

Uther,    reft 
From  my  dead  lord  a  field  with  vio- 
lence: 
For   howsoe'cr   at    first    he    prof!er  d 

gold, 
'^ct,  for  the  field  was  pleasant  in  our 

eves, 
We  yielded  not;  and  then  he  reft  us 

of  it 
Perforce,    ind    left    us    neither    gold 

nor  field." 

Said  Arthur :  "  Whether  would 
ye?  gold  or  field?  " 

To  whom  the  woman  weeping, 
"  Nay  my  lord. 

The  field  was  pleasant  In  my  hus- 
band's eye." 

And  Arthur,  "  Have  thy  pleasant 
field   again. 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE 


lys 


And  thrice  the  gold  for   Utlier's  use  "A  boon,   Sir   Kin^;!  ev'n   tliat  thou 

thereof,  grant  her  none, 

According  to  the  years.     No  boon  is  This  railcr,  that  hath  nioclc'd  thee  in 

.lere,  full  hall  — 

But  justice,  so  thy  say  be  proven  true.  None;    or    the    wholesome    boon    of 

Accursed,  who   from   the  wrongs  his  gyve  and  gag." 
father  did 

Would  shape  himself  a  right!"  But    Arthur,    "We    sit    King,    to 

help  the  wrong'd 

And  while  she  past.  Thro'    all    our    realm.     The   woman 

Came   yet   another   widow   crying   to  loves   her   lord. 


Peace  to  thee,  woman,  with  thy  loves 

and  hates! 
T  tie  kings  of  old  had  doom'd  thee  to 

the   flames, 
Aurelius  Lmrys  would  have  scourged 

thee   dead. 
And   Uthcr  slit  thy  tongue:  but  get 

thee  hence  — 
Lest  that  rough  humor  of  the  kings 

of  old 
Return    upon    me!      Thou    that    art 

her  kin, 
Go   likewise;   lay   him   low    and   slay 

him  not. 
But  bring  him  liere,  that  I  may  judge 

the  right, 
According  to  the  justice  of  the  King: 


him, 
"A  boon.   Sir   King!     Thine  enemy, 

King,  am  I. 
With   thine   own   hand    tliou   slewest 

my  dear  lord, 
A    knight   of    Uther    in    the    Barons' 

war. 
When    Lot    and    many    another    rose 

and   f(. Light 
Against  thee,  saying  thou  uert  basely 

born. 
I  held  with  these,  and  loathe  to  ask 

thee  aught. 
Yet   lo!    my    husbands    brotlier   had 

my  son 
Thrall'd     in     his    castle,     and     hath 

starved   him   dead  ; 
And  standeth  seized  of   that  inherit-     Then,  be  he  guilty,  by  that  deathless 

ance  King 

Which  thou  that  slewest  the  sire  hast     Who   lived    and    died    for    men,    the 

left  the  son.  man  shall  die." 

So  tho'  I   scarce  can  ask  it  thee  for 

hate,  Then  came   in   hall   the  messenger 

Grant  me  some  knight  to  do  the  bat-  of  Mark, 

tie  for  me,  A  name  of  evil  savor  in  the  land. 

Kill  the  foul  thief,  and  wreak  nie  for     The   Cornish    king.     In    either   hand 
my  son.'  he  bore 

What  dazzled  all,  and  shone  far-ofl 

as  shines 
A    field    of    charlock    in    the    sudden 

sun 
Between    two    showers,    a    cloth    of 

palest  gold, 
Which     down     he     laid     before     the 
throne,  ami  knelt. 
Then  came  Sir  Kay,  the  seneschal,     Delivering,  that  his  lord,   the  vassal 
and  cried,  king, 


Then  strode  a  good  knight  for- 
ward, cr\ing  to  him, 

"A  boon.  Sir  King!  I  am  her  kins- 
man, L 

Give  me  to  right  her  wrong,  and 
slay  the  man." 


196 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Was  cv'n  upon  his  way  to  Camelot ; 
For  liaviiig  heard  that  Arthur  of  his 

grace  .  . 

Had   made  his   goodly  cousin,    1  n;.- 

trani,  knight, 
And,  for  himself  was  of  the  greater 

state. 
Being   a   king,   he   trusted   his   liege- 

lord  ,, 

Would  yield  him  this  large  honor  all 

the  more; 
So   pray'd    him    well    to   accept    this 

cloth   of    gold. 
In  token  of  true  heart  and  fealty. 


Then    Arthur  to    rend    the 

cloth,  to  rer. 
In    pieces,    and    so    cas,     it    on    the 

hearth.  _  , 

An  oak-tree  smolder  d  th-re.         1  ne 

goodlv  knight!  ,    ,,     I 

What!    shall     the    shie!d__  of    Mark 

btand   among  these?" 
For,  midway  down  the  side  of  that 

long  hall 
A   stately    pile,— whereof    along   the 

front. 
Some    blazon'd,     some    but    car^■en, 

and  some  blank. 
There    ran    a   treble    range   of   stony 

shields, —  ,         '  1 

Rose,    and    high-archmg    overbrow  d 

the  hearth. 
And  under  every  shield  a  knight  was 

named:  .     ,. 

For  this  was  Arthur's  custom   in  his 

hall;  ,      ^    ,     , 

When    some    good    knight   had    done 

one  noble  deed. 
His  arms  were  carven  only;  but   if 

His  arms  were  blazon  d  aUo;  but  it 
none,  .  , 

The  shield  was  blank  and  hare  wnth- 
out  a  sign 

Saving  the  name  beneath;  and  tiar- 
eth  saw 


The  shie'd  of  Gawain  blazon'd  rich 

and  bright. 
And   Modred's  blank  as  death;  and 

Arthur   cried 
To  rtnd  the  cloth  and  cast  it  on  the 

hearth. 

"  More  like  are  we  to  reave  him 
of  his  crown 
Th'.i  mak-  him  knight  because  men 

call  him  king. 
The   kings   we    found,   ye   know    we 

stay'd  their  hands 
From  war  among  themselves,  but  left 

them    kings; 
Of  whom  were  any  bounteous,  mer- 
ciful, 
Truth-speaking,    brave,    good    livers, 

them  we  enroU'd 
Among  us,  and   they  sit  within  our 

hall. 
But   Mark  hath   tarnish'd   the   great 

name  of  king, 
As  Mark  would  sully  the  low  state 

of  churl: 
And,  seeing  he  hath  sent  us  cloth  of 

Return,   'and    meet,    and    hold    him 
from  our  eyes,  _ 

Lest  we  should  lap  him  up  m  cloth 
of  lead. 

Silenced  forever  —  craven  —  a  mar 
of  plots,  . 

Craft,     poisonous    counsels,    wayside 
ambushings  — 

No  fault  of  thine:  let  Kay  the  senes- 
chal , 

Look    to    thy   wants,    and   send    thee 
satisfied  — 

Accursed,    who   strikes    nor    lets    the 
h;>nd  be  seen!  " 


And  many  anoth.-r  suppliant  crying 
cam.e  , 

With  noise  of  ravage  wrought  by 
beast  and  man, 

An^  evermore  a  knight  would  ride 
awav. 


GARETH  AND  LYNEITE 


197 


Last,   Gareth   leaning   both    hands  A  horse  thou   Itnowest,  a  man   thou 

hea-vily  dost  not  know: 

Down  on  the  shoulders  of  tlie  twain,  Broad   brows  and   fair,  a  fluent  hair 

his  men,  and  fine, 

Approacli'd  between  them  toward  the  High  nose,  a  nostril  large  and  tine, 

King,  and  ask'd,  and  hands 

"A   boon.   Sir   King    (his  voice  was  Large,  fair  and  fine!  —  Some  young 

all   ashame'i),  lad's  mystery  — 

For  see  yc  not   how  weak  and   hun-  But,  or  from  sheepcot  or  king's  hall, 

ger-worn  the  boy 

I  seem  —  leaning  on  these?  grant  me  Is    noble-natured.     Treat    him    with 

to  serve  all  grace. 

For     meat     and     drink     among     thy  Lest   he   should    come   to  shame    thy 

kitchen-knaves  judging  of  him." 
A  t'velvemonth  and  a  day,  nor  seek 

my  name.  Then     Kay,     "  What    murmurest 

Hereafter  I  will  fight."  thou  of  mystery? 

Think  yc  this  fellow  will  poison  the 

To  him  the  King,  King's  dish? 

"A     goodly     youth     and     worth     a  N^V.     ^°'    ^,^    ^P^l^'    ^oo    fool-like: 

goodlier   boon!  ^       mystery!                         „      ^     u   _. 

But   so   thou   wilt   no   goodlier,   then  ^  "*-  an  die  lad  were  noble,  he  had 

must  Kay, 


The  master  of  the  meats  and  drinks, 
be  thine." 


ask'ii 
For  horse  and  armor:  fair  and  fine, 

forsooth ! 

Sir    Fine-face,    Sir    Fair-hands?    but 

IT                 1  1.       i^                               see  thou  to  it 

He  rose  and  past;  then  Kay,  a  man      „,          ,  .                  ^                r          1  .. 

,       .         "^      '  ■"                  That    thme    own    fineness,    Lancelot, 

of  mien  /-        > 

,,,          ,,               ^,  1     .    .1    ..    i    1               some  hne  day 

Wan-sa   ow   as   the  plant    that    leels     it   j     .u           »           j  1 

.      ,t^  '                                 Undo  thee  not  —  and  leave  my  man 


itself 
Root-bitten  by  white  lichen, 


to  me. 


So  Gareth  all  for  glory  underwent 

"  Lo  ye  now!  Yhe  sooty  joke  of  kitchen-vassalage; 

This  fellow  hath  broken   from  some  Ate  with  young  lads  his  portion  by 

Abbey,  v\  here,  the  door, 

God  wot,  he  had  not  beef  and  brewis  And    couch'd    at    night    with    grimy 

enow,  kitchen-knaves. 
Howeier  that  might  chanct!  but  an  And   Lancelot  ever  spake  him  pleas- 
he  work,  antlv, 
Like  any  pigeon  will  I  cram  his  crop,  gyt  Kay  the  seneschal,  who  loved  him 
And  sleeker  shall  he  shine  than  any  p(,t:_ 

''og.  Would    hustle    and    harry    him,    and 

labor  him 

Then  Lancelot  standing  near,  "  Sir  Beyond    his   comrade   of   the   hearth, 

Scne:\hal,  and  set 

Sleuth-hojni!      t^liou      kno'.- ,st,      and  To  tiirn  the  broach,  draw  water,  cr 

gray,  and  all  the  hounds;  hew  wood, 


■>l 


198 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Or  grosser  tasks;  and  Gi'.rfth  buw'd 

liiinsi'lf 
With  all  I'U-JiciKc  to  the  Kin/,  and 

wrought 
All  kind  of  service  with  a  noble  case 
That  graced  the  lowliest  act  in  doing 

And  when  the  thralls  had  talk  am<jng 

themselves, 
And  one  would  praise  the  love  that 

linkt  the  King 
And    Lancelot  — how    the   King  had 

saved  his  lite 
In    battle    twice,    und    Lancelot    once 

tlio   King's  — 
For  Lancelot  was  the  fust  in    Tour- 
nament, 
But   Arthur   rnigliticst   on   the   battle- 
field — 
Gareth  was  glad.     ()r  if  some  other 

told, 
How  once  the  wandering  forester  at 

dawn. 
Far    over    the    blue    tarns    and    hazy 

seas, 
On    Caer-Fryri's    highest    found    the 

King, 
A  naked  babe,  of  whom   the  Pro    let 

spake, 
'  He  passes  to  the  Isle  Avilion, 
He   passes  and    is  heal'd   and   cannot 

die  ' —  . 

Gareth  was  glad.     But  if  their  talk 

were  foul, 
Then  would  he  whistle  rapid  as  any 

lark, 
Or  carol  some  old  roundelay,  and  so 

loud 
That    first    they    m-x'k'd,    but,    after, 

re\irenced   him. 
Or    Gareth    telling    some    prodigious 

tale 
Of    knights,    who    sliced    a    red    iite- 

bubbling  way 
Thro'  twenty  folds  of  twisted  drag- 
on held 
All  in  a  gap-mouth'd  circle  his  good 
mates 


Lying    or    sitting    round    him,    idle 

hands, 
Charm'd;  till  Sir  Kay,  the  seneschal, 

would  come 
Blustering  upon  them,  like  a  sudden 

\\  ind 
Among  dead   leaves,   and  drive   them 

all  apart. 
Or  when  the  thralls  had  sport  among 

themselves, 
So  there  were  any  trial  of  mastery, 
lie,  by  two  yards  in  casting  bar  or 

stone 
Was    counted     best;     and     if     there 

chanced   a  joust. 
So   that   Sir   Kay   nodded   him   leave 

to  go, 
Would   hurry   thither,   and  when  he 

saw  the  knights 
Clash    like    the   coming   and    retiring 

wave,  , 

And     the    spear    spring,     and     good 

horse  reel,  the  boy 
Was  half  beyond  himself  for  ecstasy. 


So  for  a  month  he  wrought  among 
the  thralls; 

But  in  the  weeks  that  follow  d,  the 
good  Queen, 

Repentant  of  the  word  she  made  him 
swear, 

And  saddening  in  her  childless  cas- 
tle, sent. 

Between  the  in-crescent  and  de-cres- 
cent moon. 

Arms  for  her  son,  and  loosed  him 
from  his  vow. 

This,     Gareth     hearing     from     a 

squire  of   Lot 
With  whom  he  used  to  play  at  tour- 

nev  once, 
When    both    were    children,    and    in 

lonely  haunts 
Would  scratch  a  ragged  oval  on  the 

sand, 
.And  e.ich  at  either  dash  from  either 

end  — 


G  VRETH  AND  LYNETTE 


199 


Shame  never  made  girl    redder   than 

Gareth  joy. 
He    laugh'd;    he    sprang;.     "Out    of 

the  smoke,  at  once 
I    leap   from   Satan's   foot   to   Peter's 

knee  — 
These  news  be  mine,  none  otlier's  — 

na}-,    tlie    Kinjl's  — 
Descend  into  the  city:"  whereon  he 

souj^ht 
The  King  alone,  and  found,  and  told 

him  all. 

"  I      have     stagger'd      thy     strong; 

Gax^ain  in  a  tilt 
For   pastime;   yea,    he   said    it:   joust 

can   I. 
Make  me  thy  knight  —  in  secret!  let 

my  name 
Be  hidd'n,  and  give  me  the  first  quest, 

I  spring 
Like   flame   from   ashes." 

Here  tlie  King's  calm  eye 
Fell  on,  and  check'd,   and   made  him 

flush,  and  bow 
Lowlv,    to    kiss    his    hand,    who    an- 

swer'd  him, 
"  Son,  the  good  mother  lit  me  know 

thee  here, 
And  sent  her  wish  that  I  would  yield 

thee   thine. 
Make   thee   my   knight?   my   knights 

are  sworn  to  vous 
Of  utter  hardihood,   utter  gentleness, 
And,     loving,     utttr     faithfulness     in 

love, 
And      uttermost     obedience     to     the 

King." 

Then  Gareth,  lightly  springing 
from  his  knees, 

"My  King,  for  hardihood  I  can 
promise  thee. 

For  uttermost  obedience  make  de- 
mand 

Of  whom  ve  gave  me  to,  tlie  Senes- 
chal, 


No  mellow  master  of  the  meats  and 

drinks! 
And  as  for  love,  God  wot,  1  love  not 

yet. 
Hut  love  1  sliall,  God  udling. 

And    the    King  — 
".Make    thee    my    knight    in    secret? 

yea,  but  he, 
Our  noblest   brother,   and   our   truest 

man, 
And   one   with    me   in   all,    he   needs 

must  know." 

"  Let     Lancelo*-    know,    my    King, 
let   Lancelot   know. 
Thy  noblest  and   thy   truest!" 

And    the   King  — 
"  But     wherefore     would     ye     men 

should    wonder   at   you? 
Nay,    rather    for    the    sake    of    me, 

their  King, 
And   the  deed's  sake  my   knighthood 

do  the   deed, 
Than  to  be  noised  of. 

Merrily    Gareth   ask'd, 
"  Have  I  not  earn'd  my  cake  in  oak- 

ing  of  it  ? 
Let   be   my   name   until    I   make   my 

name! 
ALv  deeds  will  speak:  it  is  but  for  a 

So  with   a  kindly  hand   on   Gareth  s 

arm 
Smiled  the  great  King,  and   half-un- 

wiUingly 
Loving    his    lusty    youthhood    yielded 

to  him. 
Then,     after     summoning     Lancelot 

privily, 
■'  I    have   given   him    the   first   quest: 

he  is  not  proven. 
Look  therefore  when  he  calls  for  this 

in  h:ill, 
Thou  get  to  horse  and  follow  him  far 

away. 


200  IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

Cover    the    lions   on   thy   shirUl,    and 


Far  as  thou  mayfst,  he  lu'  nor  ta'en 

nur  slain." 

Then  that  same  (lav  there  past  Into 

the  hall 
A  damsel  of  hi^h  lineage,  and  a  brow 
May-blossom,  and   a  cheek  of  appk- 

blossom, 
Hawk-eyes;  and  lightly  was  her    .'.n- 

der  nose 
Tip-tilted  like  the  petal  cf  a  Hower ; 
She  into  hall  past  with  her  page  and 

tried, 

"  O  King,  for  thou  hast  driven  the 

foe   without. 
See   to   the   foe   within!   bridge,    ford, 

beset 
By    bandits,    everyone    that    owns    a 

tower 
The   Lord    for   half   a   league.     V.liy 

sit  ye  there? 
Rest    would    I    not.    Sir   King,    an    I 

were  king, 
Till  ev'n  the  lonest  hold  were  all  as 

free 
From     cursed     bloodshed,     as     thine 

altar-cloth 
From   that  best  blood  it  is  a  sin  to 
spill." 

"  Comfort    thyself,"    said    Arthur, 

"  I  nor  mine 
Rest:    so    my    knighthood    keep    ihe 

vows  they  swore, 
The   wiistest  moorland   of  our   realm 

shall  be 
Safe,    damsel,    as    the    center   oi    this 

hall. 
What  is  thy  name?  thy  need?" 

"  My  name?  "  she  said  — 
"  Lynette  my  name ;  noble ;  my  need, 

a  knight 
To  combat  for  my  sister,  Lyonors, 
A  lady  of  high  lineage,  of  great  lands, 


And  comely,  yea,  and  comelier  than 

myself. 

She  lives   in  Castle   Perilous:  a   river 
Runs  in  three  loops  about  her  living- 
place  ; 
And   o'er    it   are   three   passings,   and 

three  knights 
Defcnil   the  passings,  brethren,  and  a 

fourth 
And  of  t!,at  four  the  mightiest,  holds 

her  stay'd 
In    her    own    castle,    and    so    besieges 

her 
To  break  her  will,  and  make  her  wed 

with  him : 
And  but  delays  his  purport   till  thou 

send 
To  do  the  battle  with  him,  thy  chief 

man 
Sir  Lancelot  whom  he  trusts  to  o\er- 

throw. 
Then  wed,  with  glory:  but  she  will 

not  wed 
Save  whom  she  loveth,  or  a  holy  life. 
Now     therefore     have     I     come    for 

Lancelot." 

Then      Arthur     mindful     of     Sir 

(jareth  ask'd, 
"  Damsel,  ye  know   this  Order  lives 

to  crush 
All    wrongers    of    the    Realm.       Hut 

say,  these  four. 
Who  be  they?     What  the  fashion  of 

the  men  ?  " 

"  They  be  of  foolish  fashion,  O 
Sir   King, 

The  fashion  of  that  old  knight- 
errantry 

Who  ride  abroad,  and  do  but  what 
they  will ; 

Courteous  or  bestial  from  the  mo- 
ment, such 

As  have  nor  law  nor  king;  and  three 
of    these 

Proud  in  their  fantasy  call  themselves 
the   Day, 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE 


20I 


Morninc-Star,    and    Noon-Sun,    and 

\'.\i  iiinn-Star, 
Bcinj;  stronj;  fools;  and  never  a  wtiit 

mnri'  wise 
The  fourth,  who  alway  ridetii  ^rmM 

in  hlaik, 
A  hu^;e  man-beast   of  boundless  sav- 

HKery. 
He    names    himself     the    Ninht    and 

oftenrr   Dcatli, 
And  wears  a  helmet  mounted  with  a 

skull, 
And  hears  a  skeleton   tit^urcd  on  his 

arms. 
To  sh(;w    that  v\ho  may  slay  or  seape 

the  three, 
Slain   by   himself,   shall   enter   endless 

ni^ht. 
And    all     these    four    he    fools,    but 

nii[ihty  men, 
And  tliercforc  am  I  come  for  Lance- 
lot." 

Hereat     Sir    Garcth    call'd     from 

where  he  rose 
A  head  w  ith  kindling  eyes  above  the 

throng, 
"A    boon,    Sir    King  —  this   quest!" 

then  —  foi    he   mark'd 
Kay     near     him     groaning     like     a 

uoundcd   bull  — 
"  Yea,      King,     thou      knowest      thy 

kitchen-knave  am   I, 
And    mighty     thro'     thy     meats    and 

drinks  am  I, 
And    1    can    topple    over    a    hunilred 

such. 
Thy    promise,    King,"    and    Arthur 

glancing  at  him. 
Brought    down    a    momentary    brow. 

"Rough,   sudden. 
And      pardonable,      worthy      to      be 

knight  — 
Go  therefore,"  and  all  hearers  were 

amazed. 

But     on     the     damsel's     forehead 
shame,  pride,  wrath 


Slew  the  May-white:  she  lifted  either 

arm, 
"  Fie  on  thee.   King!   I   a^k'd   for  thy 

chief   knight. 
And     thou     hast     given     me     but     a 

kitchen-kna\e." 
Then   ere  a  man   In   hall   could  stay 

her,  turn'd. 
Fled  down  the  lane  of  access  to  the 

King, 
Took     horse,     descended     the     slope 

street,   and   past 
The   weird    white    gate,    and    paused 

without,  beside 
The    held     of    tourney,    murmuring 

"  kitchen-knave." 


Now    two     great    entries    open'd 

from   the   hall. 
At   one   end   one,    that   gave    upon    a 

range 
Of   level   pavement   where    the   King 

would   pace 
At    sunrise,    gazing    over    plain    and 

wood ; 
And  down   from  this  a   lordl>    stair- 
way sloped 
Till  lost  in  blowing  trees  and  tops  of 

towers; 
And  out  by  this  main  doorway  past 

the  King. 
But  one  was  counter  to  the   hearth, 

and  rose 
High    that    the    highest-crested    helm 

could  ride 
Therethro'    nor    graze:    and    by    this 

entry  fled 
The  damsel  in  her  wrath,  and  on  to 

this 
Sir  Gareth  strode,  and  saw  without 

the   door 
Kuig  Arthur's  gift,  the  worth  of  half 

a  town, 
A  warhorse  of  the  best,  and  near  it 

stood 
The  two  that  out  of  north  had   fol- 

low'd  him : 


..  !■• 


.     ^ 


202 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


This  bare  a  iiiaiilcn  •^hicKl,  a  i'as(iiic ; 

that  hchi 
The    horse,    till-    spear;    uhctcat    Sir 

(^arcth    Idcisril 
A  cloak   that   ilropt    from   inllar-honc 

to  lire!, 
A  cloth  of  rou^ln-st  utli,  an. I  cast   it 

dow  n, 
And    from    it    like    a    fucl-MiK.thcrM 

lire, 
That    look,    half-ih-ail.    brake    brinlil, 

and   '.lash  il  a-  those 
Dull-cor.ted   thln:;s,  that  makinu  -lide 

apart 
Their    dusk    uinn-cases,    all    beiuath 

there  burns 
A  jewel'd   liariiess.  ere   tliex    pass   and 

fly-  .    . 

So   Gareth    ere    he    parted    Hash  d    ui 

arms. 
Then  as  he  donii'd  the  helm,  and  t(jok 

the  shield 
And    mounted    liorse    and    t;raspt    a 

spear,  of  j:rain 
Storm-stren'f^then'd    on    a   wuiily   site, 

and  tipt 
With     trenchant    ste<d,     around     him 

slowly   prest 
The     people,     while     from     out     of 

kitchen   came 
The  thralls  in  tliron-,  and  seeint;  who 

had  v\ork'd 
Lustier    than    any,    and    w  horn    they 

could    but   lo\e. 
Mounted    in    arn.s,    threw     up    their 

caps  and  cried, 
"  God    blfss    the    Kint:,    ami    all    his 

fellowship!  " 
And     on     thro'     lanes     of     shouting 

Gareth   rode 
Down  the  slope  street,  and  past  with- 
out the   j;ate. 


So   Gareth   past   with   joy;   but   as 
the  rur 
Pluikt   from   the  cur  he   fiu'bts  with, 
ere   his   cause 


He  cool'd   by   linhtin^',    follous,   bein^; 

named, 
\i\>   ouner,    !)ut    remembers   all,    «nd 

j; row  Is 
Rememberint:,  so  Sir    Kay   beside   the 

door 
Mutter'd   in   scorn   of  Gareth   whom 

he  used 
1  o  harry  and  hustle. 

"  Hound  upon  a  quest 
With    horse    and    arms  —  the    King 

hath  past  his  time  — 
My  scullion  knave!     Thralls  to  your 

work   a^ain, 
l"or   an    your    (ire    be    lou    ve    kindle 

mine! 
Will  there  be  dawn  in  West  and  eve 

in  Kast? 
Hetjone !  —  my    knave !  —  belike    and 

like  rnou- 
Some    old    head-blow    not    heeded    in 

his  youth 
So  shook  his  wits  they  wander  in  his 

prime  — 
Crazed!      How   the    villain    lifted   up 

his  voice. 
Nor     shamed     to     bawl     himself     a 

kitchen-knave. 
Tut:  he   was   tame   and   meek   enow 

with  me. 
Till    peacock'd     up    with     Lancelot's 

noticing. 
Well  —  I   will  after  my  loud   knave, 

and   learn 
Whether  he  know  me  for  his  master 

\et. 
( )ut  of  the  smoke  he  came,  and  so  my 

lance 
Hold,  by  God's  grace,  he  shall  into 

the  mire  — 
Thence,    if    the    King    awaken    from 

his  craze, 
Into  the  smoke  again." 

But    Lancelot    said, 
"  Kay,      wlierefore      wi!t      thou      go 
a;:a!nsr    the    King, 


GARKlll   AM)  I.VNETTE 


203 


I'or    that    ilid    nrvrr    In-    wlu-rcoti    ye 

rail, 
Uut  cvt-r  meekly  serveil   the   Kliin  in 

thee  ? 
Abide;   taicc   (.■oun-.ci  ;    tHr   tliii    lad    is 

treat 
And  lu>.ty,  and  know  inn  Ixilli  ot  lance 

and   sword." 
"  Tut,   tell    not   me,"   said    Kay,    "  je 

are  overline 
To    mar    stout    knaves    v\itli     l(X)ll^h 

courtesies:  " 
Then  mounteil,  un   thro'  silent   laces 

rode 
Down  the  slope  cit>,  and  out  l)ejond 

the  gate. 

But  by  the  field  of  tourney  lint;er- 

injj  yet 
Mutter'd    the    damsel,    "  Wherefore 

did  the  Kin^ 
Scorn    me?    for,    were    Sir    Lancelot 

lackt,   at   least 
He  minht  have  yielded  to  me  one  of 

those 
Who  tilt   for   lady's   love   and    j^lory 

here, 
Rather  than  —  ()  sweet  heaven!     () 

fie  upon  him  — 
His  kitchen-knave." 

To  whom  Sir  Gareth  drew 

(And  there  were  none  but  few 
goodlier  than  he) 

Shining  in  arms,  "  Damsel,  the  quest 
is  mine. 

Lead,  and  I  follow."  She  thereat, 
as  one 

That  smells  a  foul-Hesh'd  a^;aric  in 
the  holt. 

And  deems  it  carrion  of  some  wood- 
land thing, 

Or  shrew,  or  weasel,  nipt  her  slender 
nose 

With  petulant  thumb  and  finger, 
shrilling,  "  Hence! 

Avoid,  thou  smellest  all  of  kitchen- 
grease. 


And    look    u  lio      ciiiie>    behind, "    for 

there  \\d>  Ka> . 
"  Knnuest  tho'.i  not  me.'  thy  master? 

I    atii    Ka\. 
V\'e  huk  tlire  by  the  hearth." 

.Anil  (  iareth  to  him, 
"  .\I.l^ler   no   more!    ton   urll    1    kn(jvv 

thee,    a\e  — 
The  most  ungentle  knight  in  .Arthur's 

hall." 
"  Have     at     thn-     then,"     saiil     Kay: 

they  shoikd,  and   Kay 
Kell   slioulder-slipf,   and  (iareth  cried 

again, 
"  Lead,  and  I  follow,  "  and  fast  away 

she    tied. 

Hut   after   sod    and    shingle   ceased 

to   lly 
Behind  her,  and  the  heart  of  her  good 

horse 
Wps   nigh    to   burst   with   violence  of 

the  beat. 
Perforce    she    stay'd,    and    overtaken 

spoke. 

"  What  doest  thou,  scullion,  in  my 
fellowship? 

Deem'st  thou  that  I  accept  thee 
aught  the  more 

Or  love  thee  better,  that  by  some  de- 
vice 

Full  cowardly,  or  by  mere  unhappi- 
ness. 

Thou  hast  overthrown  and  slain  thy 
master  —  thou  !  — 

Dish-washer  and  broach-turner,  loon! 
—  to  me 

Thou  smellest  all  of  kitchen  as  be- 
fore." 

"  Damsel,"    Sir    Gareth    answer'd 

gently,  "  say 
Whate'er  ye  will,   lu'.  whatsoe'er  ye 

say, 
I    lea\  e    not    till    I    finish    this    fair 

quest, 
Or  die  therefore." 


,i 


a 


IDVI.I.S  OF    VliV.  KlNCi 


204 

"  A>T,  wilt  thou  lmi>li  1'  ? 
Swfrt   lorii,   how   hkf  a  noble  IttUi^ht 

lu-  I;.lk^! 
Thf  li>tfnmkj  r'^ur  liath  ^.nu;ht   the 

manner  ot  it. 
Hut,   kiiaw,    anon    thou   ^halt   hr   nift 

with,  knavr, 
And  then  by  sucli  a  one  that  thou  for 

all 
The    Ititihrn    brew  i^    that    was    ever 

Shalt  not  oiue  dare  to  look  him  111 
the  t..ce." 

"  1  >hall  assay,"  said  Clareth  with 
a  •-null' 

That  madden'd  her,  and  away  >he 
thibh'd    a^ain 

Down  the  lonn  avenues  of  a  bound- 
less  wood. 

And  Gareth,  follow  in^;  was  at;ain  bc- 
knaved. 

"  Sir  Kitehcn-knave,  1  have  missM 

the  only  way 
V    '    '('    Arti.ur  ■    mtn    arr    set    alon^ 

the  wood ; 
The   wood    is   ni^h  as   full  <if   thieves 

as   leaves : 
If   both   be   slain,   1    am    rid   of   thee; 

but  yet, 
Sir  Scullion,  canst  thou  use  that  spit 

of  thine? 
Fight,  an  thou  canst.     1  have  miss  d 

the  only  way." 

So  till  the  dusk  that  foUow'd  cvcn- 

Rode  on  the  two,  reviler  and  reviled, 
Then     after     one     [on^     slope     was 

mounted,  saw, 
Bowl-shaped,     thro'     tops    of     many 

thousand  pines 
A  t^loomy-pladed  hollow  slowly  sink 
To  wcstw  ard  —  In  the  deeps  whereof 

a  mere, 
Round   as   the   red  eye  of  an   Eajjle- 

owl, 


Under    the    hall  dead    sunvt    ^.ared; 

and  shouts 
Ascended,  and   there  brake  a  sir.int;- 

nian 
Flyinn   from   out   of   the   hi  a.  k    wood, 

and  iryinj;, 
"  They  have  bo\ind   ni.\    lord   to  cist 

hiiii   in   the  mere." 
Then  t;areth,  "  Uouiul  am   I  to  right 

the  w  lon^rM, 
Hut    straitlier    hound    am     1     ti.    hiilc 

with   thee. 
And     whe.i     the    damsel     ^pak.•    C(jn- 

temptuc'.sly, 
"  I,cad,  and    1    ''jllow,"  Careth  cried 

attain, 
■•  Tollow,    I    lead!  "    so    down    among 

the  pines 
He      plunjied;      and      there,      black- 
shadow  M  nit;h  the  mer<-, 
.And  :nid-thitih-dcip  in  bulruslus  and 

reed, 
Saw    six    ta.l    men    hailing   a   seventh 

along, 
A  stone  about  hi-,  neck  to  di  iwn  Inm 

in  it. 
\        -    xvith    >:'od    blows    he     (uie  ed, 

but  three 
Fled    thro'    the    pines;    and    ( lareth 

loosed  the  stone 
From  otf  his  neck,  then   in   the  mere 

beside 
Tumbled    it;   oilily   bubbled    up    the 

mere. 
Fast,    Gareth    loosed    his   bonds    and 

on   free   feet 
Set  him,  a  stalwart   Baron,  Arthur's 
friend. 


"  Well  that  ye  came,  or  else  these 
caititi'  rogues 

Had  wreak'd  themselves  on  me; 
good  cuuse  is  theirs 

To  hate  me,  for  my  wont  hath  ever 
been 

To  catch  my  thief,  and  then  like  ver- 
min here 


GAKinii   AND  LVM  '  I  !•: 


205 


Drown  him,  and   vMtli  a  -.tour  abmit 

his  tirck  ; 
And   under  this   wan   u.iti-r  in.i/iy  of 

thrill 
Lie   rottiDi:,   but   at   m^ht    Irt   nu   tlir 

s'DIir, 

And   ri;>f,  and   fhiLi.inn  in  a  fcttiinly 

liijht 
Dance  on  the  inrr-.     ( imxl  nou ,  ye 

have  >,i\rt\   a  litr 
Worth  so.urwhat   as  t!ie  clransrr   of 

this  wood, 
And   tain  would    I    in\  lui   thee  wor- 

shipfuli). 
What  guerdon  will  \c  ?  " 

darct'.    sharply   *pake, 
"  None!    for    the   deed's   sak.r   have    I 

iliine  the  deed, 
In  utterinobt  obedience  to  tlie  Kinv;. 
Hut  wilt  thou  yield  this  damsel  har- 
borage? " 

Whereat     the     Raroii     sayin^r,     "  I 

well   believe 
■^Ou   he  of   Arthur's  Table,"   a   lit;ht 

lau^h 
Broke  from    Lynette,  "  Aye,   trulj    of 

a   truth, 
And      in     a     sort,     heinj;      Arthur's 

k'tLhen-knave !  — 
Hut  deem  not  1  accept  thee  au^'ht  the 

more, 
Scullion,    for    runnini;    sharply    with 

thy  spit 
Down  on  a  rout  of  craven  foresters. 
A    thresher    with    his    tiail    had    scat- 

ter'd  them. 
Nay  —  for     thou     sinellest     of     the 

kitchen    still. 
Rut  an  this  lord  will  yield  us  iiarbor- 

age, 
Well." 

So       '      spake.      A    lenpie    beyond 
the  wood, 
.-Ml   in  a   full-fair  manor  and   a  rich. 


His    towers    where    that    dav    a    feast 

had  been 
field  in  hiKh  hall,  and  many  a  v. and 

lett, 
Anil  m.iiiy  a  costly  catr,  received  the 

three. 
.And    there   they   placed   a   peacock    in 

his  pride 
Hetorr  the  damsid,  and  tin-  Haron  set 
Cjareth    beside    iirr,    but    at    once    she 

rose. 

"  Meseeins,   that   iiere  is  much  dis- 
courtesy, 

Settint;    this    kna.e,    Loid    Haron,    at 
ni)    siile. 

Hear    me  —  this    morn     I    stood    in 
.Arthur's   hall. 

And    pra\'d    the    Kin^;    would    grant 
nie   Lancelot 

To  fight  the  brotherh(X)d  of  Day  and 
Night — 

The  last   a  nion-"er   unsubduablc 

Of    any    save    of    him    for    whom    I 
call'd  — 

Suddenly  bawls  this  frontless  kitchen- 
knave, 

'The    quest    is    mine;    thy    kitchen- 
knave  am  L 

And    mighty    thro'    thy    meats    and 
drinks  am  L' 

Then  Arthur  all   at  once  gone   mad 
replies. 
Go     therefore,'     and     so     gives     tiie 
quest  to  him  — 

lilm  —  hi-re  —  a    villain     fitter     to 
siIc'k   swine 

Than  ride  abroad  redressing  women's 
wrong. 

Or  sit  beside  a  noble  gentlewoman." 

Then      half-asliamed      and       part 

amazed,    the    loril 
Now  look'd  at  one  and  now  at  other, 

left 
The    damsel    by    the    peacock    in    his 

pride, 


2o6 


IDYLLS  OF    IH1-:  KING 


And,     scatiiiR     CiauTli     at     anntluT 

boaril, 
Sat  down   hfikle   him,   ate   and   tlu-n 

bej^aii. 

"  Friend,  whether  thou  W  kitchen- 
knave,  or   nut, 

Or  whether  it  be  tlie  maiden's  fan- 
tasy, 

And  whether  she  be  mad,  or  else  the 

Kins:,  , 

Or    both    or    neitlier,    or    tliyseit    be 

mad, 
1  ask  not:  but  tliou  strikest  a  strong 

stroke, 
For  stronsi  thou  art  and  goodly  there- 

witlial. 
And  saver  of  niy  life;  and   therefo-'c 

now. 
For    tiere    be    mighty    men    to    joust 

witli,  weigh 
Whether  thou  wilt  not  with  thy  dam- 
sel back 
'Fo   crave  again    Sit    Lancelot   of   the 

King. 
Thy   pardon;   I    but  speak   for  thme 

avail, 
The  saver  of  my  life." 

And   t^lar^-th   said, 
"  F    '1    pardon,    but    1    follow   up   the 

quest. 
Despite  of  Dav  and  Ni-ht  and  Death 

and   Hell." 

So    when,     next    morn,    the    lord 

whose  life  he  saved 
Had,  some  hriel  space,  convey'd  them 

on  their  w  a>" 
And    left   thcni    with   (^,od-speed.    Sir 

Garcth  spake, 
"Lead,    and    I    follow."      llaughtdy 

she  replied, 

"I  fly  no  more:  T  allow  thee  for 
an  hour. 
ijion    ano    stoat    iia\t    .....j    .  r-^ 
knave, 


In  time  of  flood.     Nay,  furthermore, 
methiiiks 

Some    ruth    is  mine    for   thee.     Back 
\\ilt  thou,  fool  ? 

For  iiard   by   here   is  one  will  over- 
throw 

And   slay   thee:   then   will   I   to  court 
again. 

And  shame  the  King  for  only  yield- 
ing me 

My  champion   from   the   ashe-s  of  his 
iiearth." 

To    whom    Sir    Gareth    answer'd 

courteously, 
"  Say  thou  thy  say,  ar.d  I  will  do  my 

deed. 
Allou-   me   for  mine  hour,   and   thou 

wilt  find 
My  fortunes  all  as  fair  as  hers  who 

lay 
Among    the    ashes    and    weaded    the 

King's  son.' 

Then   to  the  -hore  of  one  of  those 
hjng  loops 
Wherethro'    the   serpent    river    cod  d, 

thev   came. 
Rough-thicketcd  were  the  banks  and 

steep ;  the  stream 
Full,  narrow;  this  a  bridge  of  single 

arc 
'Fook  at  a  leap;  and  on  the  further 

side 
Arose  a  silk  pavilion,  gay  v.ith  gold 
In  streaks  and  rays,  and  all  Lent-lily 

in  hue. 
Save  that  the  dome  was  purple,  and 

above, 
Crimson,   a   slender   banneret   flutter- 
ing. 
And   thercbefore  the  lawless  warrior 

paced 
Unarm'd,    and   calling,    "  Damsel,    is 

'his  he. 
The    champion     thou    hast    brouglit 

from  Arthur's  hall? 


GAREril  AND  LYNETTE 


2(7 


For  whom  we  let  thee  pass."  ''  Nuy, 
nay,"  she  said, 

"  Sir  Morning-btar.  1'he  Kin^  in 
utter  scorn 

Of  thee  and  thy  much  folly  hath  sent 
thee  here 

His  kitchen-knave:  and  look  thou  to 
thyself: 

See  that  he  fall  not  on  ihcc  sud- 
denly, 

And  slay  thee  una:ni'd:  he  is  not 
knight  but   knave." 

Then  at  his  call.  ''  O  dau;;iur;s  of 

the  Dawn, 
And    servants   of    the    Morniiijz-Star, 

approach, 
Arm   me,"    frora    out    the   silkeii    cur- 
tain-folds 
Bare-footed     and     bar?   headed     three 

fair  girls 
In  gilt  and  rosy  raiment  came:  their 

feet 
In    dewv    grasses    glisten'd ;    and    the 

hair 
All    over    glanced    with    dcudrnp    or 

with  gem 
Like  sparkles  in  the  stone  Av.inturine. 
These  arm'd  him   in  blue  arms,  and 

gave  a  shieul 
Wue  also,   and   thereon   the  morning 

star. 
And    Gareth    silent    gazed    upon    the 

knight, 
Who  stood    a  moment,   ere   liis   lioise 

was  brovight. 
Glorying;  and   in  the  stream  beneath 

him,  shore 
Immingled      with      Heaven's      a/ure 

waveringly, 
The  gay  pavilion  and  the  naked  feet. 
His  arms,  the  rosv  raiment,  and  the 

star. 

Tiien      she      that      watch'd      him, 
"Wherefore   stare   ye  so? 
Thnu   shakest   in   thy   fear:   there  yet 

is  time: 


Flee  do\Mi  the  valley  before  he  get  to 

lior.se. 
Who  will  cry  shame?      Thou  art  not 

knight  but  knave." 

Said    Gareth,    "  Damsel,    whether 

knave  or  knight. 
Far    liefer    had    I    fight    a    score    of 

times 
1  ban    hear    thee    so    nu'ssay    me    and 

revile. 
Fair   words   were   best    for   him    who 

tights  ftrr  thee ; 
15ut    truly    foul    are    better,    for    tliev 

send 
'Fhat    strength    of   anger    thro'    mine 

arms,   I   know 
That  I  shall  overthrow    lu'm." 

And  he  that  bore 
Tlie  star,  when  mounted,  cried   from 

o'er  the  bridge, 
"  A  kitchen-knave,  and  sent  in  scorn 

of  me! 
Such   fight   not    I,   but   answer   scorn 

w'th  scorn. 
For     this    were     shame     to    do     him 

further  wrong 
Than  set  him  on  his  feet,  and   take 

his  horse 
And  arms,  and  so  return  him  to  the 

King. 
Conie,      therefore,      leave     thy     lady 

lightly,  knave. 
Avoid :  for  it  besce.-^         not  a  knave 
To  ride  with  sucl    . 

"  Dog,    'hou    liest. 
I    spring    from    loftier    lineage    than 

thine  own." 
He  spake;  and   all  at  fiery  speed   the 

two 
Shock'd    on    the   central    bridge,    and 

either  spear 
Hent  but  not  brake,  and  either  knight 

at  once, 
nurl'il    as    a    stone    from    out    of    a 

catapult 


,  i 


2()8 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  K    \G 


Beyond   his   horse's  crupper   and    the 

bridjie. 
Fell,  as  it  dead  ;  but  quickly  rose  and 

drew, 
And   Gareth    lash'd   so   li.-iccly    with 

his  brand 
He  drave  his  enemy  backward  down 

the  bridge, 
The   damsel   cryln-,^  "  Well-stricken, 

kitclien-kna\e!   " 
Till  Garcth's  shield  was  cloven  ;  hut 

one  stroke 
Laid  him  that  clove  it   grovelin>^  on 

the  ground. 

Then  cried  tlie  fall'n,  "  Take  not 
niv  life:  I  yield." 
And  Gareth,  "  So  this  damsel   ask   it 

of  me 
Good  —  I     accord     it     easily     as     a 

grace. 
She  reddening,  "Insolent  scullion:  I 

of  thee? 
I     bound     to    thee     for     any     favor 

ask'd!" 
"Then   shall   he   die."     And  Gareth 

there  unlaced 
His   helmet   as   to   slay   him,   but   she 

shriek'd, 
"  Be  not  so  hardy,  scullion,  as  to  slay 
One    nobler    than    thyself."     "  Dam- 
sel,  thy  charge 
Is     an     abounding    pleasure     to     me. 

Knight, 
Thy    life    is    thine    at    her   command. 

Arise 
And    quickly    pass   to   Arthur's   hall, 

and   say 
His    kitchen-knave    bath     sent     thee. 

See  thou  crave 
His   pardon   for   thy   breaking   of   his 

laws. 
Myself,  when  I  return,  will  plead  for 

thee. 
Thy  shield  Is  mine  —  farewell;  and, 

damsel,  thou. 
Lead,  and  I  follow." 


And    fast   away   she   fled. 
Then  when  he  came  upon  her,  spake, 

"  Methought, 
Knave,  when  1  watch'd  thee  striking 

on  the  bridge 
The  savor  of  thy  kitchen  came  upon 

me 
A  little  faintlier:  but  the  wind  hath 

changed : 
I    scent    it    twenty-fold."     And    then 

she  sang, 
"'O    morning   star'    (not    that    tall 

felon  there 
Whom   thou  by   sorcery   or  unhappi- 

ness 
Or    some    device,    hast    foully    over- 
thrown), 
'  O  morning  star  that  smi!e^t  in  the 

blue, 
O    star,    my    morning    ilieam    hath 

proven   true. 
Smile   swe:tly,    thou!    my    love   hath 

smiled   on  me.' 

"  But    thou    begone,    take   counsel, 

and  away. 
For  hard  by  here  is  one  that  gu  irds 

a  ford  — 
The    second    brother    in    their    foil's 

parable  — 
Will  pay  thee  all  thy  wages,  and  to 

boot. 
Care    not    for    shpme:    thou    art    not 

knight  but  knave." 

To    whom    Sir    Gareth    answer'd, 

laughingly, 
"Parables?     Hear  a  parable  of  the 

knave. 
When    I    was    kitchen-knave    among 

the  rest 
Lierce  was  the  hearth,  and  one  of  my 

co-mates 
Own'd  a  rough  dog,  to  whom  he  cast 

his  coat, 
'  Guard    it,'    and    there   wns   none    to 

meddle  \\ith  it. 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE 


209 


And  such  a  coat  art  thou,  and   thee 

tlic  King 
Gave  me  to  K^^rd,  and  sucli  a  dog 

am  I, 
To  worrj',  anl  not  to  flee  —  and  — 

kmV'lit  or  knave  — 
The  knave  that  doth  thee  service  as 

full  knight 
Is    all    as    good,    mcseems,     as    any 

knight 
Toward   thy  sister's   freeing." 

"  A>e,  Sir  Knave! 
Aye,   knave,   because   thou  strikest  as 

a  knight, 
Being  but  knave,  I  hate  thee  all  the 

more." 

"  Fair  damsel,  you  should  worship 
nic  the  more, 
That,  being  but  knave,  I  throw  thine 
enemies." 

"  A\ e,    a\e,"   she  said,    "  but   thou 
shalt  meet  thy  match  " 

So  when   they  touch'd   the   second 

riverloop. 
Huge  on  a  huge  red  horse,  and  ■'.11  in 

mail 
Burnish'd     to    blinding,     shone     the 

Noonday  Sun 
Heyond  a  raging  shallow.     As  if  the 

Hower, 
That  blows  a  globe  of  after  arrow- 
lets. 
Ten  thousand-fold  had  grown,  flash'd 

the  fierce  shield. 
All  sun;  and  Gareth's  eyes  had  Hying 

blots 
Before    them    when    he    turn'd    from 

watching  him. 
He  from  beyond  the  roaring  shallow 

roar'd, 
"  What  doest  thou,  brother,  in  my 

marches  here?  " 
And  she  athwart  the  shallow  shrill'd 

again, 


"  Here     is     a     kitchen-knave     from 

Arthur's  hall 
Hath    overthrown    thy    brother,    and 

hath  his  arms." 
"  Ugh!  "  cried  the  Sun,  and  visoring 

up  a  red 
And  cipher  face  of  rounded   foolish- 
ness, 
I'ush'd   horse  across  tlie   foamings  of 

the  ford, 
Whom    Gareth    met    midstream:    no 

room  was  there 
For     lance     or     tourney-skill:     four 

strokes  they  struck 
With  sword,  and  these  were  mighty; 

the  new  knight 
Had  fear  he  might  be  shamed ;  but  as 

the  Sun 
licaved  up  a  ponderous  arm  to  strike 

tlie  fifth, 
Ti."   hoof   of   his   horse   slipt    in    the 

stream,  the  stream 
Descended,  and  the  Sun  was  wash'd 

av\ay. 

Then  Gareth  laid  his  lance  athwart 

the  ford  ; 
So    drew    him    home;    but    he    that 

fought  no  more. 
As    being    all    bone-battcr'd    on    the 

rock, 
\'ielded ;  and  Gareth  sent  him  to  the 

King. 
"  Mvself   when    I    return   will   plead 

for  thee." 
"  Lead,   and   i    follow."     Quietly  she 

led. 
"  Hath   not   the    good   wind,    damsel, 

changed  again  ?  " 
"  Nay,  not  a  point:  nor  art  thou  vic- 
tor here. 
There  lies  a  ridge  of  slate  across  the 

ford; 
His    horse    ihereon    stumbled  —  aye, 

for  I  saw  it. 

"  '  O   Sun  '    (not   this  strong  fool 
whom  thou,  Sir  Knave, 


I 


■  { 


.i  r 


210 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KINC^ 


Hast  overthrown  thro'  nuTc  unliappi- 

ness), 
'  O    Sun,    that   wakcn.'st    .ill    to   hliss 

or  puin, 
O    moon,    that    lay  est    all    to    sleep 

again, 
Shine   sweetly:    twice    my    love    hath 

smiled  on  me.' 

'•  What   knnwest   thnu   of   lovesong 

or  ot  love  ? 
Nay.    nay,   God    wot,    so    thou   wcrt 

nobly  born, 
Thou  hast  a  pleasant  pre'^eiice.     \  ca, 

perchance, — 

"  '  O  dewy  flowers  that  open  to  the 
sun, 
O  dewy  tlnwcrs  that  close  u  hen  da\'  is 

'''^"'^'  ,  .      u 

Blow    sweetly:    twice    my    love    liatti 

smiled  on  me.' 

"  What   knowest    thou   of   flowers, 
except,  belike. 

To  f^arnish  meats  with?  hath  not  our 
good  King 

Who    lent    me    thee,    the    flower    of 
kitchendom, 

A     foolish     love     for     flowers?    what 
stick  ye  round 

The    pasty?    wherewithal    deck    the 
boar's  head  ? 

Flowers?    nay,    the    boar    hath    rose- 
maries and  bay. 

"  '  O    birds,    that    warble    to    the 
mornine;  sky, 
O  birds  that  warble  as  the  day  goes 

^y<  ,      1  1 

Sing    sweetly:    twice    my    love    hatli 
smiled  on  me.' 

"  WTiat    knowest    thou    of    birds, 
lark,  mavis,  merle, 
Linnet?   what   dream    ye   when    they 
utter  forth 


May-music  growing  with  the  growing 

li^ht. 
Their  sweet  sun  worship?  these  be  for 

the  snare 
(So  runs  thy  fancy)   these  be  for  the 

spit. 
Larding  and  basting.     Si-e  thou  have 

not  now 
Larded  th>   last,  except  thou  turn  and 

tly. 

Tiiere  stands  the  third  fool  of  their 
allegory." 

Lor  tiicre  beyond  a  bridge  of 
treble  bow. 

All  in  a  rose-red  from  the  west,  and 
all 

Naked  it  seeni'd,  and  glowing  in  the 
broad 

Ueep-dimpled  current  underneath,  the 
knight. 

That  named  himself  the  Star  of  Even- 
ing, stood. 

And  G  .eth,  "  Wherefore  waits  the 

madman   there 
Naked  in  open  dayshine?"     "Nay," 

she  cried, 
"  Not  naked,  only  wrapt  in  harden'd 

skins 
That  fit  him  like  his  own ;  and  so  ye 

cleave 
His  armor  of?  him,  these  will  turn  tlie 

blade." 

Then    the    third    brother    shouted 

o'er   the  bridge, 
"  O  brother-star,   why  shine  ye  here 

so  low  i 
Thy  ward  is  higher  up:  but  have  ye 

slain 
The    damsel's    champion?"    and    the 

damsel  cried, 

"  No  star  of  thine,  but  shot  from 
Arthur's  heaven 
With    all    disaster    unto    thine    and 
thee ! 


i^MHMIR 


GAREIH  AND  LYNETTE 


211 


For  both  thy  younjjer  brethren  have 

fjone  down 
Before  this  youth;  ami  so  wilt  thou, 

Sir  Star; 
Art  thou  not  old  ?  " 

"  Old,  damsel,  old  and  hard, 
Old,   with   the   might  and   breath   of 

twenty  boys." 
Said  Gareth,  "  Old,  and  o\er-bold  in 

bra^! 
But  that  same  strenmii  uiiitdi  threw 

the   Morning  Star 
Can  throw  the  Evening." 

Then  that  otl;cr  blew 
A    hard    and    deadly    note    upon    the 

horn. 
"Approach    and    arm    me!"     With 

slow  steps  from  out 
An   old    storm-beaten,    russet,    many- 
stain 'd 
Pavilion,    forth    a    grizzled    damsel 

came. 
And    arm'd    him    in    old    arms,    and 

brought  a  helm 
With     but    a    dr\ing    evergreen     for 

crest, 
And  gave  a  shield  whereon  the  Star 

of  Even 
Half-tarnish'd     and     half-bright,     his 

emblem,  shone. 
But  when  it  glitter'd  o'er  the  saddle- 
bow, 
They   madly   hurl'd    lOgether  on    the 

bridge; 
And  Gareth  overthrew  him,  lighted, 

drew. 
There  met  him  drau  n,  and  overthrew 

him  again, 
But  up   like   fire  he  started:  and   as 

oft 
As  Gareth  brought  him  groxding  on 

his  knees, 
So  many  a  time  he  vaulted  up  again ; 
Till    Gareth    panted    hard,    and    his 

great  heart. 


Foredooming   all    his   trouble  was   in 

\ain, 
Labor'd    within    him,    for   he    seem'd 

as  otie 
That    all    in    later,    sad.    ;     age    be- 
gins 
To  war  against  ill  uses  of  a  life, 
Hut  these  from  all  his  life  arise,  and 

^  cry, 
"  Thou    hast    made    us    lords,    and 

canst  not   put   us  down  I  " 
He   half   despairs:   so   Gareth   seem'd 

to  strike 
Vainly,   the  damsel  clinuiring  all  the 

while, 
"  Well      done,      knave-knight,      •veil 

stricken,      O      good      knight- 
knave  — 
()  knave,  as  noble  as  any  of  all  the 

knights  — 
Shame    me    not,    shame    me    not.     I 

have   prophesied  — 
Strike,  thou  art  worthy  of  the  Table 

Round  — 
His    arms    are    old,     he    trusts     the 

harden'd    skin  — 
Strike  —  strike  —  the     wind     will 

never  change  again." 
And    Gareth    hearing   ever   stronglier 

smote. 
And  hew 'd  great  pieces  ot  his  armor 

oft  him, 
But   lash'd   in   vain   against   the   har- 
den'd skin, 
And    could    noi    wholly    bring    him 

imder,  ir   re 
Than     Icud     Southwestern,     rolling 

ridge  on  ridge. 
The  buoy  that  rides  at  sea,  and  dips 

and  springs 
For  ever;  t'U  at  length  Sir  Gareth's 

brand 
Clash 'd   his,   and   brake  it  utterly  to 

the  hilt. 
"I   have  thee  now;"  but  forth  that 

other  sprang. 
And,    all    unknightlike,    writhed    his 

wiry  arms 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


212 

Arouna   lum,   till   1r'   f''lt,   ilf'.pitc   1"^ 

mail,  ,       .  . 

Strannlol,     but     strainlni;     cv  ti     lus 

utti-rmo-'t 
Cast,  and  so  hurlM  hi.n  headlong;  o  er 

the  bridfic 
Down    to    the    river,    sink    or   swim, 

and  cried, 
"  Lead,  and   I    follow." 

But   the  damsel  said, 
"I  lead  no  longer;   ride  tliou   at  my 

Thou'art  the  kin-Iiest  of  all  kitchen- 
knaves. 

"  '  O  trefoil,  sparkling;  on  the  rainy 
plain, 
O    rainbow    with    three    color,    alter 

rain,  , 

Shine   sweetly:    thrice   my   love   hath 
smiled  on  me.' 

"S;r,_and.     good    faith,    1     fain 
had   added  —  Knipht, 
But   that   I   heard  thee  call   thyself  a 

knave, — 
Shamed   am   I   that  I   so   rebuked,   re- 
viled, . 
Missaid     thee;     noble     I     am;     and 

thought   the   Kini: 
Scorn'd  me  and  mine;  and  now  thy 

pardon,    friend. 
For   thou   hast   ever   answei  d   court- 
eously, , 
And  wholly  bold  thou  art.  and  meek 

withal  . 

As  any  of  Arthur',  best,   but,  being 

knave. 
Hast  mazed  my  wit:  I  marvel  what 

thou   art. 

"  Damsel,"   he  said,   "  you  be   not 
all  to  blame. 
Saving  that  you  mistru'  .ed  our  good 

King  . 

Would    handle    scorn,    or    yield    you, 

asking,  one 


Not  tit  to  cope  your  iiu(->t.  ^  ou 
said  vour  sa\  ; 

.Mine  answer  was  my  deed.  Cjood 
sooth!   I  hold 

He  scarce  is  knight,  yea,  but  halt- 
man,  nor  meet 

To  fight  for  ),.,n\c  damsel,  he,  who 
lets  , 

His  heart  be  stirr'd  with  any  foolish 

heat  , 

At  any  gentle  damsel's  wayward- 
ness. 

Shamed?  care  not  I  thy  t.)ul  sayuigs 
fought   for  me: 

.•\nd  seeing  now  thy  words  are  fair, 
methinks 

There  rides  no  knight,  not  Lancelot, 
his  great  self, 

Hath   force  to  quell  me." 


Nigh    upon    that    hour 
When     the     lone     hern     forgets     his 

melancholy. 
Lets  down  his  other  leg,  and  stretch- 
ing, dreams 
Of  goodly  supper  in  the  distant  poo  , 
Then    turn'd    the   noble   damse!   smil- 
ing at   him, 
And    told    him    of    a   cavern    hard    at 

hand, 
Where  breid    and   b.aken   mea^s   and 

good   red   \\  ine 
()f      Southh-nd,     uhich     the      Lady 

Lvonors 
Had     sent     her     coming     champion, 
waiteil   him. 

Anon    they    past    a    narrow    comb 

wherein 
Were    slabs    of     rock     with     figures, 

knights  on  horse 
Sculptured,     and     deckt     in     shmly 

waning  hues. 
••  Sir    Knave,    my    knight,    ::    hermit 

once  was  here, 
WHiose  hol\    hand   hath   tashion  d  on 

the  rock 


GARF.TH  AND  LYNETTE 


213 


The  war  of  Time  at,'aiiibt  tlic  m)u1  (if 

itKin. 
And  yon  four  looU  luui-  Mick'd  tlicir 

allegory 
From    '.hfsc    damp   walls,    and    taken 

buf  the  furm. 
Know    ye    not    these?"    and    Ciareth 

lookt   and    read  — 
In   letters   like   to   those   the   vexilkuy 
Hath      left      crag-carven      o'er      the 

streaming;   Cjelt  — 
"Phosphorus,"   then   "Meriuhs" 

"  Hl.Sl'tRL  s  " — 

"  Nox  " — "  Mors,"  licneath  live  fig- 
ures,   armed    men, 
Slab   after   slab,    their   faces   forward 

And  running;  down  the  Soul,  a  Shape 

that  tied 
With    broken    wings,    torn    raiment 

and    loose   hair. 
For  help  and  shelter  to  the  hermit's 

cave. 
"  Folloxv    the   faces,    anil   we   find   it. 

Look, 
Who  cumes  behind  ?  " 

For  one  —  delay'd   at   first 

Thro'  helping  back  the  liislocated 
Kay 

To  Camelot,  then  I'v  ulia.t  thereafter 
chanced, 

The  damsel's  headlong  error  thro' 
the   wood  — 

Sir  Lancelot,  having  swum  the  river- 
loops  — 

His  blue  shield-lions  cover'd  —  softly 
drew 

Behind  the  twain,  and  when  he  saw 
the  star 

Gleam,  on  Sir  Gareth's  turning  to 
him,   cried, 

"  Stay,  felon  knight,  I  avenge  ine 
for  my  friend." 

And  Garcth  crying  prick'd  against 
»he  cry : 

But  when  ihey  closed  —  in  a  mo- 
ment— at  one  touch 


Of  that  skili'd  ^pear,  the  wonder  of 

the  world  — 
Went    sliding    down    su    easily,    and 

fell. 
That  when  he  found   the  grass  with- 
in  his  hands 
He     laugh'd;     the     laughter     jarr'd 

upon   Lynette: 
Harshly     slie     ask'd     him,     "  Siiamed 

and   overthrow  II, 
And   tumbled   back  into  the  kitchen- 
knave. 
Why    laugh    ye  ?    that    ye    ble\'.    your 

boast  in  vain  ?  " 
"  Nay,  noble  damsel,   hut   chat   1,   the 

son 
Of  old    King   Lot   and    good   Queen 

Bellicent, 
And    victor   of   the   bridges   and    the 

tord. 
And     knight    of    Arthur,     here    lie 

thrown  by  whom 
I    know  not,  all   thro'  mere  unhappi- 

ness  — 
Device     and     sorcery    and     unhappi- 

ncss  — 
Out,  sword;  we  are  thrown!"     And 

Lancelot    answer'd,   "  Prince, 
O  Gareth  —  thro'  the  mere  unhappi- 

ness 
Of  one  who  came  to  help  thee,   not 

to  harm, 
Lancelot,  and  all  as  glad  to  find  thee 

w  hole, 
As  on  the  day  when  Arthur  knighted 

him." 


Then  Gareth,  "  Thou  —  Lance- 
lot! —  ••hine  the  hanil 

That  threv\-  .ne?  An  some  chance 
to  mar  the  boast 

Thy  brethren  of  thee  make  —  which 
could  not  chance  — 

Had  sent  thee  down  before  a  lesser 
spear, 

Shamed  had  I  been,  and  sad  —  O 
Lancelot  —  thou  !  " 


:1 


.  r 


IDVl.l.S  OF  Tllh   K1N<-^ 


214 

Whereat     the     m.iW,  n.      petiihiiU. 
"  Lancelot, 
Why  i-Mve  \v  iu)t,   uhni  c:iHM  ?  an.l 

uliereturr   luiw 
Come    ye,    not    lallM?     1    ul'nifl    in 

niv  knave, 
Who  beinti  still    rebuked,   would   an 

bwer  still 
Courteous  as  any  knight  — but  now. 

if  knight, 
The     marvel     dies,     and     leaves     me 

todl'd   and   tnck'd. 
And      only      wonderinj:      ulierelore 

plav'd  upon: 
And    doubtful    wlietber    I    and    nune 

be  sucirn'd. 
Where    should    b<-    truth    if    not    m 

Artiiur's   h.ill, 
In        Arthur's        presence?       Knight, 

knave,   prince  and   fool, 
I  hate  thee  and  forever." 


And    Lancelot  saiii, 
"Blessed      be      thou,      Sir      Ciareth! 

knijiht  art  thou 
To  the  K!n}:'s  best  wish.     C)  daniH-l, 

be  vou  u  ise 
To  call  him  shamed,  who  is  but  over- 
thrown? 
Thrown   have    I    been,   nor  once,   nut 

n;an\-  a  time. 
Victor   from   vanquish'd   issues   at   the 

last, 
And    overthrower    from    bcuvz    over- 
thrown. 
With    sword    we    have    rot    striven; 

and  thy  good  horse 
And   thou  are  weary;  yet  not  less  I 

feit  . 

Thy    manhood     thro'     that    wearied 

lance  of  thine. 
Well    hast    thou    dor"  ;    for    all    the 

stream  is  freed, 
And  thou  hast  wreak'd  his  justice  on 

his  foes, 
And     when     reviled,    hast    answer  d 
[graciously, 


And  .uakest  merry  when    )verthrouii. 

i'rince,    knight. 
Hail,  l<.ni^;ht  and  Prince,  and  of  our 

Table    Round!  " 

And    then    when    turning;    to    L\n- 
ette   he   told 
The    tale    of    Hareth,    petulantly    she 

said, 
".Aye,   well  — ave,   well  — for  worse 

tiian  beinj:  fool'd 
Of   otliers,    is   to    fool   one's   self.      A 

cave. 
Sir   Lancelot,  is  hard  by,  with  meats 

and  drinks 
,\nd    forage   for   the  horse,   and    tlint 

for  fire. 
Hut  all  about  it  (lies  a  honeysuckle. 
Seek,  till  we  tind."     And  when  they 

soucht   and    found. 
Sir   Gareth    drank    and    ate,    and    all 

his  life 
Past  into  sleep;  on  whom  the  maiden 

gnzed. 
"Sound   sleep   be   thine!   sound   cause 

to  sleep  hast  ihou. 
Wake   lusty!      Seem    1    not   as   tendei 

to  him 
As    any    mother?     .\\e,    but    such    a 

one 
As   all    dav    ! 

child, 
And    ve\t    hi>    day,    but    blesses    him 

asleep  — 
Good    lord,    how    sweetly    smells    the 

h(ine\^uckle 
In  the  hu>ird  night,  as  if  the  world 

were  one 
Of  \itter  peace,  and  love,  and  gentle- 


hath    rated    at    her 


ncss ; 
O     Lancelot,     Lancelot  "—  and     she 

clapt  her  hands  — 
"  Full  merry  am  I  to  find  my  goodly 

knave 
1-     knight     and     noble.     See     now, 

s\\, ,rn  Irne   I. 
KIse  yon  black  felon  hail  not  let  me 

pass, 


GARETH  AND  LYNETIE 


215 


To  brine  thee  back  to  Jo  the  battle 
nitli  him. 

Thus  and  thou  gocsr,  he  uiU  ti^^ht 
thee  first ; 

Who  doubts  thee  victor?  so  will  my 
Itnipht-knave 

Miss  the  full  flower  of  this  accom- 
plishment." 

Said  Lancelot,  "  Pcrailveiiturc  he, 
you    name, 

May  know  niv  shiclil.  Let  Garetli, 
an   he  will, 

Change  his  for  mine,  and  t.ike  my 
charter,    fresh, 

Not  to  be  spurr'd,  loviti;:  the  battle 
as  well 

As  he  that  rides  him."  "  Lancelot- 
like,"  she  said, 

"  Courteous  in  this,  Lord  Lancelot, 
as  in  all." 


A  star  shot:  "  Lo,"  said  Gareth, 
"the  foe  falls!" 

An  owl  whoopt:  "  Hark  the  victor 
pealing  there !  " 

Suddenly  she  that   rode  upon  his  left 

Cluns;  to  the  shield  that  Lancelot 
lent   him,  crying;, 

"  \'ield,  yield  him  this  again:  'tis  be 
must  fit;ht : 

r  curse  the  ton^jue  that  all  t!\ro'  yes- 
terday 

Reviled  thee,  and  bath  wrou^^lit  on 
l,ancelot  nuu 

To  lend  thee  horse  and  '•hield:  won- 
ders ye  have   ilone  ; 

.NL'raclcs  ye  cannot:  here  is  ^lory 
enow 

In  having  flung  the  three:  I  see  thee 
maim'd, 

Mangled :  I  su  ear  thou  canst  not 
fling  the   fourth." 


And     Gareth,     wakening,     fiercely 

clutch'd    the  shield  ; 
"  Ramp  .\e  lance-splintering  lions,  on 

whom  all  spears 
Are   rotten   sticks!   ye   seem   agape   to 

roar ! 
Yea,    ramp    and    roar    at    leaving    of 

your  lord!  — 
Care  not,  good  beasts,  so  well  I  care 

for  you. 
O  noble  Lancelot,  from  my  bfjld  on 

these 
Streams      virtue  —  fire  —  thro'      one 

that  will  not  shame 
Even  the  shadow  of  Lancelot  under 

shield. 
Hence:  let  us  go." 

Silent  tbe  silent  field 
They  traversed.     Arthur's  harp  the' 

summer-wan, 
In     counter    motion     to     the    clouds, 

allured 
The   glance  of  Gareth   dreaming  on 

his  liege. 


"  And   wherefore,   damsel  t   tell   me 

all  ye  know. 
^  ou    cannot    scare    me ;    nor    rough 

face,   or  voice, 
Brute    bulk     of    limb,    or    boundless 

savagery 
Appal   me   from   the  quest." 

"  Nay,   Prince,  '  she  cried, 

"  God  wot,  I  never  look'd  upon  the 
face, 

Seeing  he  never  rides  abroad  by 
day ; 

But  watch'd  him  have  I  like  a  phan- 
tom  p;iss 

Chilling  the  night:  nor  have  I  heard 
the  voice. 

Alwajs  be  made  his  mouthpiece  of  a 
page 

Who  came  and  went,  and  still  re- 
ported him 

As  closing  in  himself  the  strength  of 
ten, 

And  when  his  anger  tare  him,  mas- 
sacring 


f 
'I 


:i6 


IDYLLS  OL  THL  KING 


Man,    svoiiian,    la.i    aii.l    t;irl  — y<a. 

the  sott  babe! 
Some    hold    that    he    hath    swaliuw  d 

intant   Hesh, 
Monster!    U     Prince,     1     went     for 

J  .ancclot  first, 
The    quest    is    Lancelot's:    give    Inm 

back  the  shichi." 

Said    Gareth    lau^hin^',    "  An    he 
fight  for  this. 
Belike  he  \\ins  it  as  tlu-  better  man; 
'I'luis  —  and  nut  tlsel  " 

Rut  Lancelot  on  hlni  ur^vil 
All  the  devisinp»  ot  their  chivalry 
When    one    niii:tit    meet    a    mightier 

than    himself; 
How    best    to    manape    horse,    laJice, 

sword   and  shield, 
And  so  till  up  the  gap  where  force 

might  fail 
With     skill     and     fineness.     Instant 

were  his  words. 

Then  Gareth,  "  Here  he   rules.     I 

know    but   one  — 
To  dash  against  mine  enemy   and   to 

win. 
Yet    have    I    watch'd    thee    victor    in 

the  joust. 
And  seen  thy  v  ny."     "  Heaven  help 

thee,"  sigh'd  Lynette. 


Then  for  a  space,  and  under  cloud 

that  grew 
To   thunder-gloom    palling  all  stars, 

they    rode 
In  converse  till  she  made  her  palfrey 

halt. 
Lifted   an  arm,  and  softly  whisper  d 

''  There." 
And  all  the  three  were  silent  seeing, 

pitch'd 
Beside    the    Castle    Perilous    on    fiat 

field, 
A    huge    pavilion    like    a    ninuntani 

peak 


Sunder  the  gLnmiin^  crimson  on  the 

nuiige, 
Black,  with  black  banner,  and  a  long 

bl.uk   hurn 
Beside  It  hanging;  which  Sir  Clarrth 

graspt, 
And  s(j,  before  the  two  could  hinder 

lull',  ,      ,1 

Sent  all  his  heart  and  breath  tliro    all 

the  horn. 
Fclio'd   the  walls;  a   Hght  tumkled; 

an(;ii 
Came    lights    and    lights    and    once 

again  he  blew  ; 
Whereon  were  hollow  tr.ainplings  up 

and  dou  n 
.And   muffled   voices  heard,   and   sh.id- 

ou  s  past ; 
Till    high    above    him,    circled    with 

her   maids, 
The    Lady    Lyonors    at    a    window 

stood, 
Beautiful    among   lights,   and    waving 

t<j  him 
White     hands,     and     courtesy;     but 

when  the  Prince 
Three  times  had  blown  —  after  long 

hush  —  at  last  — 
The  huge  pavilion  slowly  yielded  up. 
Thro'     those     black     foldings,     that 

which    housed    therein. 
High  on  a  nighthlack  horse,  In  night- 
black   arms, 
With   white  breast-bone,   and   barren 

ribs  of  Death, 
And  crown'd  with   fleshless  laughter 

—  some  ten  steps  — 
In    the    half-light  — thro'     the    dim 

daw  n  —  advanced 
The  monster,   and   then   paused,  and 
spake  no  word. 


But  Gareth  spake  and  all  indig- 
nantly, 

"  Fool,  for  thou  hast,  men  say,  the 
strength  of  ten, 

Canst  thou  not  trust  the  limbs  thy 
God  hath  given. 


'"Ill-:  MARRIAGK  OF  GFRAINT 


217 


But  must,  to  make  the  terror  of  tlirc 

more, 
Trick   thyself  out   in   ghastly   image- 
ries 
Of   that  vshitli   Life  liath  done  with, 

and   the  clod, 
Less  dull   than    thou,    will   hide   with 

mantling  Howers 
As   if    fcjr   pit)'.''"      Hut    he   spaLc   no 

word  ; 
Which     set     the     horror     hi'jher:     a 

maiden  sw  (x)n'd  ; 
The  Lady  Lyonors  wrun^  her  hand-. 

anil    wept, 
As  doom'd   to  be  tlic  bride  of   Ninht 

aiul    Ucatli  ; 
Sir    Cjarcth's    head    pricUed    bemath 

his  helni ; 
And  ev'n  Sir  Lancelot  thro'  his  \\arni 

blond   telt 
Ice  strike,   and   all   that   mark'd   him 

were  aghast. 


At    once    Sir     Lancelot's    charger 

fiercely   nei^^li'd 
And  Death's  dark  war-horse  bounded 

forw  ard  u  ith  him. 
Then    tho>e    that    did    not    blink    the 

terror,  saw 
That  Death  was  cast  to  jjround,  and 

slowly  rose. 
But  with  one  stroke  Sir  Gareth  split 

the  skull. 
Half   fell    to   right   and    half   to   left 

and  lay. 
Then  with  a  stronger  bufifet  he  clove 

the  helm 
As  thoroughly  as  the  skull;  and  out 

from  this 
Issued  the  bright  face  of  a  blooming 

boy 
Frtsh  as  a  flower  new-born,  and  cry- 
ing,  "  Knight, 
Slay  me  not:  my  three  brethren  bade 

me  do  it. 
To    make    a    horror    all    about    the 

house, 


.And  ^r,n-  the  vMirlil  from  Lad>   Lyon- 

oi>. 
They  never  dream-d  the  passes  would 

be  past." 
Answer'd    Sir    Gareth    graciously    to 

line 
Not     many     a     moon     his     younger, 

"  .\I>    fair  chikl, 
What   madness    made    thee    challenge 

the  chiet   knight 
Of  .Arthur's  hall.'  '     "  Fair  Sir,  they 

bade  me  do  it. 
'I'hey  hate   the   King,   and    Lancelot, 

the  King's  friend. 
They   hoped    to   slay    him    so'iiewhere 

on   the  str?am, 
I'hey  never  dreani'd   the  passes  could 

he  past." 

Then  sprang  the  happier  day  from 

underground  ; 
And    Lady    Lyonors    and    her    house, 

with  dance 
And    revel    ami    song,    made    merry 

over   Death, 
As  being  after  all   tiieir  foolish   fears 
And  horrors  only  proven  a  blooming 

boy. 
So    large    mirth     lived     anil     Cjareth 

won  the  quest. 

And  he  that  told  the  tale  in  older 
times 

Says  that  Sir  Gareth  wedded  Lyon- 
ors, 

But  he,  that  told  it  later,  says 
Lynctte. 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF 
GLRALNT 

The    brave    Geraint,    a    Icnight    of 

Arthur's  court, 
A   tributary  prince  of  Devon,  one 
Of   that    great   Order   of   the   Table 

Round, 


2l8 


IDYLLS  OF  Tin-:  KING 


Had     uiarrinl     Knui,     Vniol's    only 

duia,  ,    ,  , 

And  luvcd  !i<-r,  a.  W  li.v.-d  tlic  hi;l>t 

of   Mi-avrn. 
An.l   as   tlie   li^ht   ..f    ll.'avcn   vane-,, 

now 
At    siiiui^c,    now    at    sunset,    now    by 

ni^;ht 
With   moon    an.l    t.cnil'link;   stars,   so 

lovi-d  (irraint 
To    make    her    beauty    vary    day    by 

day,  . 

In   crimsons   and    \n    purplrs   ami    in 

H<'n's. 

And    Kni.i,    but    to    please    her    hus- 
band's rye. 

Who   first   had    found   and   loved    her 
in  a  state 

Or'    broken     fortunes,    daily     fronted 
him 

In     some     fresh     splendor;     and     the 
(Jueen    herself, 

Grateful  to   Prince  ( leraint   for  serv- 
ice done, 
Loved  her,  and  often   with  her  own 

white  hands 
Array'd  and   de.k'd   her,  as  the   love- 

lifst,  .    . 

Next   after   her   own   selt,  in   all   ttie 

court.  . 

And  tnid  loved  the  Queen,  and  with 

true  heart 
Adored   her,  as  the  stateliest  and   the 

best 
And     loveliest    of    all    women     upon 

earth. 

And    seeing    them    so    tender    and    so 

close,  .   .     , 

Long  in  their  common  love  rejoiced 

Geraint. 
But   when    a    rumor    rose   about   'he 

Queen, 
Touct-.ing  her  guilty  love  for  Lance- 
lot, 
ThV    yet   there   lived    no   proof,   nor 

yet  was  heard 
The  "world's    loud    whisper    breaking 
into   storm. 


Not    less    (icraint    believed    it;    and 

there   fell 
A  horror  on  him,  lest  his  gentle  wife, 
1  hro'      that      great      tenderness      tor 

( luinrvrre. 
Had    suffrr'd,    or    should    suffer    any 

taint 
In    nature:    wherefore    going    to    the 

King, 
He  made  this  pretext,  that  his  prince- 
dom lav 
Close  on   the   borders   of   a    territory, 
Wherein     were     bamlit     rarl>,     and 

caitiff   knights, 
Assassins,    ard    all    flyers    from    the 

hand 
Of   Justice,    and   whatever   loathes   a 
law:  ,.       ,^ 

And   therefore,  till  the  King  himself 

should  please 
To  cleanse  this  common  stwer  of  all 

his   realm. 
He   craved    a    fair    permission    to    de- 
part. 
And    there    defend    his   marches;    and 

the  King 
Mused   for   a   little   on   his  plea,   but, 

last,  ,    . 

Allowing    it,    the    prince    and    Lnid 

rode, 
And    fifty    knights    rode    with    them, 

to  the  shores 
Of    Severn,    and    they    past    to    their 

ov\  ti    land  ; 
Where,  thinking,  that  if  ever  yet  was 

w  i  f  e 
True  to  her  lord,  mine  shall  be  so  to 


me. 
He    compass'd    her    with    sweet    ob- 
servances 
And  worship,  never  leaving  her,  and 

grew 
Forgetful  of  his  promise  to  the  King, 
Forgetful  of  the  falcon  and  the  hunt, 
Forgetful  of  the  tilt  and  tournament, 
Forgetful  of  his  glory  and  his  nanie, 
Forgetful    of   his   princedom   and    its 

cares. 


IllK  MARRIAGK  OF  GKRAINT 


219 


And  this  fori;ftfulnf<is  w.is  li.itfful  to 
her. 

And  by  anil  b)  tlu-  (>t(i(ilt',  u  lirn  tlicv 
nirt 

In  twos  anil  thrffs,  or  fuller  com- 
panies, 

B('Kan  to  scoff  and  jcrr  and  babble  of 
biin 

As  of  a  prince  wliose  inaiihood  was 
all   none, 

And  molten  down  in  mere  iivnrioiis- 
nevs. 

And  this  she  t;atber'<l  fr<im  the  peo- 
ple's  eyes; 

This,  too,  the  women  who  attired 
her  head, 

To  please  her,  (hvellim;  on  his 
boundless    love, 

Told  Knid,  and  they  sadden'd  her 
the  more: 

And  day  by  day  she  thou^;lit  to  tell 
Geraint, 

Hut  could  not  out  of  bashful  deli- 
cacy ; 

While  he  that  watch'd  her  sadden, 
was  the  more 

Suspicious  that  her  nature  had  a 
taint. 


At  last,  it  chanced  that  on  a  sum- 
mer morn 
(They   sleeping   each   bv    either)    the 

new  sun 
Beat   thro'   the  blindlcss  casement   of 

the  room. 
And  heated  the  strong  warrior  in  his 

drea;ns; 
Who,      moving,     cast      the     coverlet 

aside. 
And    bared    the    knotted    colunm    of 

his  throat. 
The    massive    square    of    his    heroic 

breast. 
And    arms    on    which    the    standing 

muscle  sloped. 
As  slopes  a  wild  brook  o'er  a  little 

stone. 


Running    too    vehemently     to    break 

upon  it. 
And    l.nid    v\oke    ;>''  1    sat    beside    the 

loiuh, 
.Admiruig    tiim,    and    thought    within 

herself, 
Was  ever   man   so   grandly   made   as 

be  ? 
Then,    like   a    shadow,    p.ist    the    peo- 
ple's  talk 
Anil    aicusation   of    uxoriousness 
Atross    her    nind,    and    bowing    over 

him, 
Low    to  her  o«  ri   heart  pitcously   she 

said : 

"  ()    noble    breast    anil    all-puissant 

arms. 
Am    I    the    cause,    I    the    poor    cause 

that    men 
Reproach  you,   saying  all   \()ur   force 

is  gone  ? 
I    am    the   cause,    because    I    dare   not 

speak 
And  tell  him  what  I  think  and  what 

they  say. 
And  yet  I   hate  that  he  should  linger 

here ; 
I   cannot   love  my   lonl   and   not   his 

name. 
Far  liefer       d  I   gird  his  harness  on 

him. 
And     ride    with    him    to    battler    nnd 

stand  by. 
And   watch   his   mightful    hand   strik- 
ing gre  ;t   blows 
At   caitiffs   and    at   wrongcrs   of    the 

vM)rld. 
Far  better  were   I    laid    in   the   dark 

earth. 
Not     hearing    any    more    hi;     noble 

voice, 
Not  to  be  folded  more  in  these  dear 

arms, 
And  darken'd  from  the  high  light  in 

his   eyes. 
Than   that  my  lord  thro'   me  should 

sufifer  shame. 


220 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Am  I  so  bold,  ami  could  I  so  stand 

by, 

And    see  my   dear   lord   wounded   m 

the  strife, 
Or    maybe    pierced    to    deatl.    before 

mine  eyes, 
And  yet  not  dare  to  tell  ium  what  1 

think. 
And  how  men  slur  h'ni,  saying  all  his 

force 
Is  melted  into  mere  effeminacy?     __ 
O  me,  1  fear  that  1  am  no  true  wife. ' 


Half    inwardly,    half    audibly    she 

spoke,  ...  . 

And  the  strong  pa.ssion  m  her  made 

her  weep 
True  tears  upon  his  broad  and  naked 

brea.'t, 
And  these  awoke  him,  and  by  great 

mischance 
He  heard  but  fragments  of  her  later 

words, 
And   that  she   fear'd  she  was  not  a 

true  wife. 
And   then  he   thought,  "  In  spite  of 

al!  my  care, 
For  all  my  pains,  poor  man,  for  all 

mv  pains, 
She  is  not  faithful  to  me,  and  I  see 

her 
Weeping    for    some    gay    knight    in 

Arthur's  hall." 
Then    tlio'   he    loved   and    reverenced 

her  too  much 
To  dream  she  could  be  guilty  of  foul 

act. 
Right  thro'  his  manful  breast  darted 

the  pang 
That  makes  a  man,  in  the  sweet  face 

of  her 
Whom    he    loves    most,    lonely    and 

miserable. 
At  this  he  hurl'd  his  huge  limbs  out 

of  bed, 
And  shwk  his  drowsy  squire  awake 
and  cried. 


"My    charger     and    her     palfrey;" 

then  to  her, 
"  I   will   ride   forth   into  the  wilder- 
ness ; 
For  tho'   it  seems  my  spu.s  are  yet 

to  win, 
I    have   not    fall'n    so    low    as   some 

would  wish. 
And    thou,    put    on    thy    vorst    and 

meanest  dress 
^nd     ride     with     me."     And     Enid 

ask'd,  amazed, 
"  If   Enid    errs,    let    Enid    learn    her 

fault." 
Bu:  he,  "1  charge  thee,  a^k  not,  but 

obey." 
Then  she  bethought  her  of  a  faded 

silk, 
A  faded  mantle  anvl  a  faded  veil. 
And   moving   towara   a  cedarn   cabi- 
net, 
Wherein  she  kept  them  folded  rever- 
ently 
With  sprigs  of  summer  laid  between 

the  folds, 
She   took   them,    and   array'd   herself 

therein, 
Remembering  when  first  he  came  on 

her 
Drest    in    that    dress,    and    how    he 

loved  her  in  it, 
And   all  her  foolish   fears  about   the 

dress. 
And  all  hio  journey  to  her,  as  him- 
self 
Had   told   her,   and   their  coming   to 
the  court. 


For    Arthur    on    the    Whitsuntide 

before 
Held    court    at    old    Caerleon    apnn 

Usk. 
There  on   a  day,  he  sitting  high   m 

hall, 
Before  him  came  a  forester  of  Deai., 
Wet  from  the  woods,  with  notice  of 

a  hart 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  GERAINT 


221 


Tall«T   than    all   his    fellows,    millty-  Sweetly   and   statelily,   and   with   all 

white,  grace 

P'irit  seen   that  day:   these   things  he  Of      womanhood      and      queenhood, 

told   the  King.  answer'd  hinv. 

Then   the  good    King  gave  order  to  "  Late,    late,    Sir    Prince,"    she   said, 

let  blow  "later  than  we!" 

His  horns   for  hunting  on    the  mor-  "  Yea,    noble    Queen,"    he    answer'd, 

row-morn.  "  and  so  late 

And   when   the  Quetn   petition'd   for  That  I  but  come  like  you  to  see  the 

his  leave  hunt. 

To  see  the  hunt,  allow'd  it  easily.  Not  join  it."     "  Therefore  w  ait  with 


So   >A-ith    the   morning   all    the   court 

were  gone. 
But    Guinevere    lay    late     into    the 

morn, 
Lost  in  sweet  dreams,  and  dreaming 

of  her  love 
For   Lancelot,   and    forgetful    of   tiie 

hunt; 
But    rose    at    last     a    single    maiden 

with    her, 
Toole    horse,    and    forded    Usk,  and 

gain'd  the  wood ; 


me,"  she  said ; 

"  For  on  this  little  knoll,  if  any- 
where, 

There  is  good  chance  that  we  shall 
hear  the  hounds : 

Here  often  they  break  covert  at  our 
feet." 


And    while    they    listen'd    for   the 
distant  hunt, 
And  chiefly  for  the  baying  of  Cavall, 

There,    on    a    little    knoll    beside    it,  King     Arthur's     hound     of     deepest 

stay'd  mouth,  there  rode 

Waiting    to    hear    the    hounds;    but  Full  slowly  by   a   knight,   lady,   and 

heard  instead  dwarf; 

A  sudden  sound  of  hoofs,  for  Prince  Whereof    the    dwarf    lagg'd     latest, 

Gcraint,  and  the  knight 

Late  also,   wearing   neither  hunting-  Had  visor  up,  and  show'd  a  youthful 

dress  face. 

Nor    weapon,    Su.°    a    golden-hilted  Imperious,    and    of   haughtiest    linea- 

hranil,  ments. 

Came     qin'ckly     flashing     thro'     the  And   Guinevere,   not   mindful  of  his 

si  ml  low   ford  face 

Behind  them,  and  so  gallop'd  up  the  In  the  King's  hall,  desired  Ins  name, 

knoll.  and  sent 

A     purple     scarf,      at      either     end  Her    maiden    to    demand    it    of    the 

whereof  dWaii, 

There  swung  an  apple  of  the  purest  Who  being  vicious,  old  and  irritable, 

gold,  And  doubling  all  his  master's  vice  of 

Sway'd     round     about     liim,     as     he  pride, 

gallop'd   up  Made  ans\\  -"r  sharply  that  she  should 

To  join  therr ,  glrncing  like  a  dragon-  not  know. 

fly  "  Then  will  I  ask  it  of  himself,"  she 

In  summer  suit  and  silks  of  holiday.  said. 

Low  bnw'd  the  tribul-iry  Prince,  and  "  Nay,  by  my  faith,  thou  shah  not," 

she,  cried  the  dwarf; 


i 


i   ^' 


222 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


"  1  hou  art  not  worthy  ev"n  to  speak 

of  him  ;  " 
And  when  she  put  her  horse  toward 

the  knight, 
Struck  at  her  with  his  whip,  and  she 

return'd 
Indignant    to    the    Queen;    whereat 

Gcraint 
Exclaiming,  "  Surely  I  will  learn  the 

name," 
Made    sharply    to    '■he    dwarf,    and 

ask'd   it  of  him, 
Who  answer'u  as  before;  and   when 

the   Prince 
Had  put  his  horse  in  motion  toward 

the  knight, 
Struck  at  him  with  his  v\  hip,  and  cut 

his  cheek. 
The  Prince's  blood  spirted  upon  the 

scarf. 
Dyeing  it;  and  his  quick,  instinctive 

hand 
Caught    at    the    hilt,    as    to    abolish 

him: 
But  he,   from   his  exceeding  manful- 

ness 
And   puie  nobility  of  temperament, 
Wroth  to  be  wroth  at  such  a  worm, 

refrain'd 
From  ev'n  a  word,  and  so  returning 

said : 

"  I   will   avenge   this   insult,    noble 

Que-'n, 
Done    in    your    maiden's    person    to 

yourself: 
And  I  will  track  this  vermin  to  their 

earths: 
For   tho'    I    ride  unarm'd,   I    do   not 

dcabt 
To  find,  at  some  place  I  shall  come 

at,  arms 
On    loan,    or    else    for    pledge;    and, 

being  found. 
Then    will    I    fight    him,    and    will 

break  his  pride. 
And  on  the  third  day  will  again  be 

here, 


So    that    I    be    not    fall'n    in    ..^ht. 
Farewell." 

"  Farewell,   fair  Prince,"  answer'd 

the  stately  Queen. 
"  Be  prosperous  in  this  journey,  as  in 

all; 
And  may  you  light  on  all  things  that 

you  love, 
And  live  to  wed  with  her  whom  first 

you  love : 
But    ere   you    wed    with    any,    bring 

your  bride, 
And   I,  were  she  the  daughter  of  a 

king. 
Yea,    tho'    she   were    a   beggar    from 

the  hedge, 
\ViIl  clothe  her  for  her  bridals  like 

the  sun." 

And  Prince  Geraint,  now  think- 
ing that  he  heard 

The  noble  hart  at  bay,  now  the  far 
horn, 

A  little  vext  at  losing  of  the  hunt, 

A  little  at  the  vile  occasion,  rode. 

By  ups  and  downs,  thro'  many  a 
grassy  glade 

And  valley,  w'ith  fixt  eye  following 
the  three. 

At  last  they  issued  from  the  world  of 
wood. 

And  climb'd  upon  a  fair  and  even 
ridge. 

And  show'd  themselves  against  the 
sky,  and  sank. 

And  thither  came  Geraint,  and  un- 
derneath 

Beheld  the  long  street  of  a  little 
town 

In  a  long  valley,  on  one  side 
whereof, 

WTiite  from  the  mason's  hand,  a 
fortress  lose; 

And  on  one  side  a  castle  in  deca/, 

Beyond  a  bridge  that  spann'd  a  dry 
ravine : 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  GERAINT 


And  out  of  town  and  valley  came  a 

noise 
As  of  a  broad   brook  o'er  a  shine'.v 

bed 
Brawling,    or    like    a   ilanior   of    the 

rooks 
At   distance,   ere   they   settle   for   the 

night. 

And   onward    to   the   fortress   rode 

the  three. 
And    enter'd,    and    were    lost    behind 

the  walls. 
"  So,"     thought     Gcraint,     "  I     have 

track'd  him  to  his  earth." 
And    down    the    long    street    riding 

wearily, 
Found   every   hostel   full,   and  every- 
where 
Was   hammer   laid   to  hoof,   and   the 

hot  hiss 
And    bustling    whistle    of    the   youth 

who  scour'd 
His  master's  armor;   and   of  such   a 

one 
He  ask'd,  "What  means  the  tumult 

in  the  town  ?  " 
Who  told  him,  scouring  still,  "  The 

sparrow-hawk!  " 
Then  riding  close  behind  an  ancient 

churl. 
Who,   smitten    by   the   dusty   sloping 

beam. 
Went  sweating  underneath  a  sack  of 

corn, 
Ask'd  yet  once  more  what  meant  the 

hubbub  here? 
Who    answer'd    gruffly,    "Ugh!    the 

sparrow-hawk." 
Then   riding  further  past  an  armor- 
er's, 
Who,   with   hack   turn'd,   and   bow'd 

above  his  work, 
Sat  riveting  a  helmet  on  his  knee. 
He  put  the  self-same  query,  but  the 

man 
Not    turning   round,    i    r   looking   at 
him,  said : 


223 

"  Friend,     he    that    labors    for    the 

sparrow-hawk 
Has  little  time  for  idle  questioners." 
Whereat  Geraint  flash'd  into  sudden 

spleen : 
"  A  thousand  pips  eat  up  your  spar- 
row-hawk ! 
Tits,  wrens,  and  all  wing'd  nothings 

peck  him  dead! 
\'e    think   the    rustic   cackle   of   your 

bourp 
The  murmur  of  the  world!     What 

is  it  to  me? 
C)  wretched  set  of  sparrows,  one  and 

all, 
Who  pipe  of  nothing  but  of  sparrow- 
hawks! 
Speak,    if   ye    be    not    like    the    rest, 

hawk-mad, 
Where  can   I   get  me  harborage   for 

the  night? 
And   arms,   arms,   arms  to  fight  my 

enemy?     Speak !  " 
Whereat    the    armorer    turning    all 

amazed 
And    seeing    one    so    gay    in    purple 

silks, 
Came    forward   with   the   helmet   yet 

in  hand 
And     answer'd,     "  Pardon     me,     O 

stranger  knight; 
We   hold  a  tourney  here   to-morrow 

morn. 
And    there    is   scantly    time    for   half 

the  work. 
Arms?  truth!     I  know  not:  all  are 

wanted   here. 
Harborage?     truth,     good     truth,     I 

know  not,  save. 
It  may  be,  at  Earl  Yniol's,  o'er  the 

bridge 
Yonder."     He     spoke     and     fell     to 
work  again. 

Then  rode  Geraint,  a  little  spleen- 
ful yet. 
Across   the   bridge   that   spann'd    the 
dry  ravine. 


't'i 


224 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


There  musing  sat  the  hoary-hcaded 
Earl, 

(His  dress  a  suit  of  fray'd  magnifi- 
cence, 

Once  fit  for  feasts  of  ceremony)  and 
said : 

"Whither,  fair  son?"  to  whom 
Geraint  replied, 

"  O  friend,  I  seek  a  harborage  for 
the  night." 

Then  Yniol,  "  Enter  therefore  and 
partake 

The  slender  entertainment  of  a 
house 

Once  rich,  now  poor,  hut  ever  open- 
door'd." 

"  Thanks,  venerable  friend,"  replied 
Geraint ; 

"  So  that  ye  do  not  serve  me  spar- 
row-hawks 

For  supper,  I  will  enter,  I  will  eat 

With  all  the  passion  of  a  twelve 
hours'  fast." 

Then  sigh'd  and  smiled  the  hoary- 
headed  Earl, 

And  answer'd,  "  Graver  cause  than 
yours  is  mine 

To  curse  this  hedgerow  thief,  the 
sparrow-hawk : 

But  in,  go  in;  for  save  yourself  de- 
sire it. 

We  will  not  touch  upon  him  ev'n  in 
jest." 

Then  rode  Geraint  into  the  castle 

court, 
His     charger      trampling     many      a 

prickly  star 
Of    sprouted    thistle    on    the    broken 

stones. 
He    look'd    and    saw    that    all    was 

ruinous. 
Here     stood     a     sliatter'd     archway 

plumed  with   fern; 
And  here  had  fall'n  a  crcat  part  of  a 

tower, 
Whole,     like    a    crag    that    tumbles 

from  the  cliff, 


And  like  a  crag  was  gay  with  wild- 

mg  flowers: 
And    high    above    a    piece    of    turret 

stair, 
Worn    by    the    feet    that    now    were 

silent,  wound 
Bare  to  the  sun,  and  monstrous  ivy- 
stems 
Claspt    the    gray    walls    with    hairy- 

fibered   arms. 
And  suck'd  the  joining  of  the  stones, 

and  look'd 
A  knot,   beneath,  of  snakes,  aloft,   a 

grove. 

j\nd  while  he  waited  In  the  castle 

court. 
The  voice  of  Enid,  Yniol's  daughter, 

rang 
Clear  thro'  the  open  casement  of  the 

hall. 
Singing ;  and  as  the  sweet  voice  of  a 

bird, 
Heard  by  the  lander  in  a  lonely  isle, 
Aloves   him    to    think   what    kind    of 

bird   it  is 
That    sings   so    delicately   clear,    and 

make 
Conjecture  of   the   plumage   and    the 

form ; 
So   the   sweet   voice   of   Enid   moved 

Geraint ; 
And  made  him  like  a  man  abroaii  at 

morn 
When  first  the  liquid  note  beloved  of 

men 
Comes    flying    over    many    a    windy 

wave 
To  Britain,  and  in  April  suddenly 
Breaks  from  a  coppice  gemm'd  with 

green  and  red. 
And  he  suspends  his  converse  with  a 

friend. 
Or  it  may  be  the  labor  of  his  hands. 
To    think    or    say,    ''  There    is    the 

nightingale ;  " 
So     fared     it     with     Geraint,     who 

thougiit  and  said. 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  GERAIN'l  225 

"  Here,    by   God's   grace,    is   the  one      That   liRhtly  breaks  a   faded   flower- 
voice  for  inc."  sheath, 

,      ,  Moved   the   fair   Enid,   all    in    faded 

It    chanced     the    sonj;    that    Enid  silk, 

sang  was  one  Her  daughter.    In  a  moment  thought 

Ui  Portune  and  her  wheel,  and  Enid  Geraint, 

®*"8:  "  Here    by    God's    rood    is    the    one 

J,  maid   for  me." 

Turn,    Fortune,   turn    thy   wheel     But    none    spake    word    except    the 
and  lower  the  proud;  hoary  Earl: 

Turn  thy  wild  wheel  thro'  sunshine,      "  Enid,     the     good     knight's     horse 

storm,  and  cloud:  stands  in  the  court; 

Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  neither  love     Take  him  to  stall,  and  give  him  corn, 

and  then 
Go  to  the  town  and  buy  us  Hesh  and 

u  inc ; 
And  we  will  make  us  merry  as  we 

may. 
(^ur   hoard    is   little,   Lut   our   hearts 
are  great," 


nor  hate. 

"Turn,   Fortune,    turn    thy  wheel 

with  smile  or  frown; 
With  that  wild  wlicel  we  go  not  up 

or  down ; 
Our   hoard    is   little,   but   our  hearts 

are  great. 


"  Smile  and  we  smile,  the  lords  of 

many  lands; 
Frown    and    we    smile,    the    lords   of 

our  own  hands  • 
For  man   is  man   and   master  of  his 

fate. 


He    spake:    the    Prince,    as    Enid 
past  him,  fain 
To  follow,  strode  a  stride,  but  Yniol 

caught 
His  .lurplc  scarf,  and  held,  and  said, 

"  Forbear! 
Rest!  the  gof)d  house,  tho'  ruin'd,  O 
,,       "  my  son. 

Turn,  turn   thy  wheel  above  the      Endures   not    that    her    guest   should 
starmg  crowd;  serve  himself." 

Thy  uheel  and  thou  are  shadows  in     And    reverencing   the   custom   of   the 

the  cloud;  house 

Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  neither  love     Geraint,    from    utter    courtesy,    for- 
nor  hate."  bore. 

"  Hark,  by  the  bird's  song  ye  may  So   Enid    took   his  charger    to   the 

learn  tiie  nest,"  stall ; 

Said  Yniol ;  "  enter  quickly."     Enter-  And   after  went  her  way  across  the 

ing  then,  bridge. 

Right  o'er  a  mount  of  newly-fallen  And  reach'd  the  town,  and  while  the 

,        stones,  Prince  and  earl 

I  he     dusky-rafter'd     many<obweb'd  Yet  spoke  together,  came  again  with 

hall,  one^ 
He   found    an   ancient   dame   in   dim  A  youth,  that  following  with  a  cos- 
brocade;  trel  bore 
And    near   her,    like   a   blossom    ver-  The  means  of  goodly  welcome,  flesh 
meil-white,  and  wine. 


226 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Ana    Knld    brouRht    swfit    i-.ikc-s    to 
makf  tliciu  tlifcr, 

And    in    hi-r    veil    t-ntolJcJ,    nianchft 
bread. 

And    then,    because    their    hall    must 
also  serve 

For     kitchen,     boil'd     the     tlesh,     and 
spread    tlie    board. 

And  stood  behind,  anil  waited  on  the 
three. 

And  seeini;  her  so  sweet  and  service- 
able, 

Geraint    had    lonjjint;    in    him    ever- 
more 

To   stoop    and    kiss    the    tender    little 
thumb. 

That  crost  the  trencher  a>  she  laid  it 
dou  n : 

But    after    all    had    eaten,    then    Ger- 
aint, 

For  now   the   wine   made  summer   in 

his  veins, 
Let    his    eye    rove    in    f()llowin>:,    or 
rest 

On    I'.nid    at    her    louly    liandmaid- 

work. 
Now     here,     now     there,     about     the 

dusky  hall  ; 
Then    suddenly    addrest    the    hoarv 
Earl: 


Sent  her  own  maiden  to  demand  the 

name, 
His    dwarf,    a    vicious    under-shapen 

thing. 
Struck  at  her  with  his  whip,  and  she 

return'd 
Indignant  to  the  Queen;  and   then   I 

swore 
That  1  would  track  this  caitiff  to  his 

hold, 
And    tight    and    break   his   pride,    and 

have  it  of  him. 
And  all  unarm'd  1  rode,  and  thought 

to   find 
Arms   in   your    town,    where    all    the 

men  are  mad ; 
They  take  the  rustic  murmur  of  their 

bourg 
For     the     great     wave     that     echoes 

round   the  world  ; 
They  would   not   hear  me  speak:  but 

if  ye  know- 
Where    I    can    light   on    arms,    or    if 

yourself 
Should  have  them,   tell  me,  seeing  I 

have  sworn 
That  I  will  break  his  pride  and  learn 

his  name, 
Avenging  this  great   insult   done   the 
ueen. 


"  Fair  Host  and  Farl,  I  pray  your  Tlien  cried  Farl  Yniol,  "  Art  thou 

courtesv;  li<-"    indeed. 

This  sparrow-hawk,  what   is  he.'  tell  Geramt,   a   name   far-sounded   among 

me  of  him.  Tifi 

His  namei'  hut  no,  good  faith,  I  will  For  noble   deeds?  and   truly   I,  when 

not  have   it:  first 

For  if  he  be   the   knight   whom   late  I    saw    you    moving    by    me    on    the 

I  saw  bridge. 

Ride  into  that  new   fortress  by  your  Felt  ye  were  somewhat,  yea,  and  by 

town  your  state 

White   from   the   mason's  hand,  then  And  presence  might  have  guess'd  you 

have   I   sworn  one  "f  those 

From  his  own  lips  to  have  it  —  I  am  That  eat    in   Arthur's  hall   at   Came- 

Geiaint  h)t.                                 ,     ,.  ,     n 

Of   Devon  —  for  this  morning  when  Nor  speak   I    now   from   foolish   fiat- 

thc  Queen  tery ; 


'hI-KI-     l:V    l.ou's    kOOIl    IS    Till      i  IM'     MMD    I-'OR    "Ml''"  —  /''A''"   -25 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  GERAINT 


227 


For  this  (Ifar  child  hath  oftt-n  liearj 

nic  praise 
^'our   feats  of  arms,   and   often   ulicn 

1   paused 
Hatli  ask'd   a^ain,   and  evir   loved   to 

hear ; 
So    grp'ctul    is    the    noise    of    noble 

deeds 
To  noble  hearts  who  see  hut  acts  of 

wronn: 

0  never    yet      liad    xioman    such    a 

pair 
Of     suitors     as     this     maiden ;     first 

Limoiirs, 
A    creature    \\holly    given    to    brawls 

and  u  inc, 
Drunli  even   u  hen  he  w  oo'd  ;  and   be 

he  dead 

1  know  not,  but  he  past  to  the  wild 

land. 

The  second  was  your  foe,  the  spar- 
row-haw k. 

My  curse,  my  nephew  —  I  will  not 
let  his  name 

Slip  from  my  lips  if  I  can  help  it  — 

When    I    that    knew    him    fierce   and 

turbulent 
Refused    her   to  him,    then   his   pride 

awoke ; 
And  since  the  proud  man  often  is  the 

mean, 
He  sow'd   a  slander   in   the  common 


From     mine     own     earldom      iouUy 

ousted   me ; 
Built   that   new   fort   to  overawe   my 

friends, 
For   truly   there  are   those  who   love 

me  >et ; 
And   kccp>  me  in  this  ruinous  castle 

here, 
Where    doubtless   he    would    put    me 

soon  to  death, 
Hut  that  his  pride  too  much  despises 

me: 
And   I   myself  sometimes  de'^pise  my- 
self;' 
I'or    I    have    let    men    be,    and    have 

their  way ; 
Am  much   too  gentle,  have  not  used 

my   power: 
Nor  know  I  u  hether  I  be  very  base 
Or  very  manful,   whether  very   wise 
Or   very    foolish;   only   this   I    know, 
That  whatsoever  evil  happen  to  me, 
I    seem    to    suffer    nothing    heart    or 

limb. 
But  can  endure  it  all  most  patiently." 

"  Well    said,    true    heart,"    replied 

Gcraint,  "  but  arms, 
That     if     the     sparrow-hawk,      this 

nephew,   fight 
In   next   day's   tourney   I   may   break 

his  pride." 


Affirmin.:    tl-.at    his    father    left    him 

gold. 
And    in   my   charge,    whicli    was   not 

rendcr'd  to  him  ; 
Bribed   with   large  promises  the  men 

who  served 
About  my  person,  the  more  easily 
Because    my    means    w  ere    somewhat 

broken    into 
Thro'  open   doors  and  hospitality; 
Raised   my  own   town   against   me   in 

tho  night 
Before    my    Enid's    birthday,    sack'd 

my  house; 


And  Yniol  answer'd,  "  Arms,  in- 
deed, hut  old 

And  rusty,  old  and  rusty,  Prince 
Geraint, 

Are  mine,  and  therefore  at  thine  ask- 
ing,  thine. 

But  in  this  tournament  can  no  man 
tilt. 

Except  the  lady  he  loves  best  be 
there. 

Two  forks  are  fixt  into  the  meadow 
ground. 

And  over  these  is  placed  a  silver 
wand, 


228 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And    ovrr    that    a    golden    sp.iTow- 

hauk, 
The  prize  of   beautv    for   the    fairest 

there. 
And   this,   what   Lni^;ht   soever   be   in 

field 
Lays  claim  to  for  the  lady  at  his  side, 
And     tilts     v\  ith     my     t;()<)d     nephew 

thereupon, 
Who  beirij;  apt  at  arms  and   bi,;  of 

bone 
Has  ever  uon   it   fur   the   lady   with 

him, 
And    toppling;  over   all    antagonism 
Has  earn'd  himself  the  name  of  spar- 

ruvv-hawk. 
But    thou,    th  It   hast    no   lady,   canst 

not  fight." 

To   whom    Geraint    with    eyes   all 

bright    replied, 
Leaning  a   little   toward   him,   "  Thy 

leave ! 
Let   me   lay    lance    in    rest,    O    noble 

host. 
For  this  dear  child,  because   1   'lever 

saw, 
Tho'  having  seen  all  beauties  of  our 

time. 
Nor   can   see   elsewhere,    an\ thing  so 

fair. 
And    if   I    fall   her  name   will   yet    re- 
main 
Untarnish'd  as  before  ;  but  if  I  h've. 
So    aid    me    Heaven    when    at    mine 

uttermost. 
As   I    will    make   her   truly   my   true 

Wife. 

Then,    howsoever    patient,    "^'niol's 

heart 
Danced    in    his   bosom,    seeing   better 

days. 
And  looking  round  he  saw  not  F".nid 

there, 
—  Who  hearing  her  own  name  had 

stol'n  away  — 


But  that  old  dame,  to  whom  full 
tetulerly 

And  fondling  all  hei  hanil  in  his  he 
said, 

"  Mother,  a  maiden  is  a  tender  thing, 

And  best  bv  her  that  bore  her  under- 
stood. 

(i(>  thou  to  rest,  but  ere  thou  go  to 
rest 

Tell  her,  and  prove  her  heart  toward 
the  Prince." 


So    spake    the    kindlv -hearteil    earl, 

and  she 
With  frequent  smile  and  luid  depart- 
ing  found. 
Half    disarrav'd    as    to    lur    rest,    the 

girl; 
Whom     first    she     kiss  d     on     cither 

cheek,  and  then 
On    either    shining    shoulder    laid    a 

hand, 
And  kept  her  off  and  gazed  upon  her 

face, 
.And  t(.ld  her  all  their  converse  in  the 

hall. 
Proving   her    heart:    but    never    light 

and  shade 
Coursed   one   another   more  on   open 

ground 
Beneath  a  troubled  hea\en,  than  red 

and   pale 
Across  the  face  of  Enid  liearing  her; 
While  slowly    fallinj;  as  a  scale   that 

falls, 
When  weiglit  is  added  only  grain  by 

grain. 
Sank  her  sv\cet  head  upon  her  gentle 

breast ; 
Nor  did  she  lift  an  eye  nor  speak  a 

word. 
Rapt  in  the  fear  and  in  the  wonder 

of  it; 
So    moving    without    answer    to    her 

rest 
She  found  no  rest,  and  ever  fail'd  to 
draw 


rm-:  marriacji-:  of  gkraint 


229 


Tlie  quirt   ninlit   into   her   blmul,   but 

hn 
Coiitfiuplafin^     licr     (n\  n     uiu\()rt!ii- 

iu--.> ; 
An>i     wlicn    tlir    [i:ilc    an,!     lilixnlless 

I'li.it  hf^an 
1 0    qimktii    to    till'    sun,    aroic,    and 

r.iiM-il 
Ilcr    iiujthcr    too,   and    h.m.l    in    han.i 

the-)    iiiovcil 
Dowfi     to     tlif     niiaiiow     w  hrrc     the 

juu^t-.     UlTC    lulli, 

And     waited     there     for     ^'iiiol     and 
(jcraiiit. 


And   thither  caine   the  tvsaiii,   and 

u  hrn  ticraint 
Rchfld    her    first    in    field,    awaiting 

hitn, 
He  felt,  were  she  the  prize  of  bodily 

force. 
Himself     beyond     the     rest     pushing 

could  move 
The   cliair   of    Idris.     V  niol's    rusted 

arms 
Were    on    lu's    princely    person,    but 

thro'  these 
Princelike    his    bearing;    shone;    and 

errani    knit;iits 
And  laiiies  came,  and  by  and  b>    the 

tou  n 
Fiow'd  in,  and  settling  circled  all  the 

lists. 
And    there   they    fixt    the    forks    into 

the   ^Tound, 
And  over  tlicse  they  ;    aced  the  silver 

wand, 
And   over   that   the   golden   sparrow- 
hawk. 
Then  Yniol's  nephew,  after  trumpet 

blown. 
Spake  to  the  lady  with  him  and  pro- 

claim'd, 
"  Advance  and  take,  as  fairest  of  the 

fair, 
What    I    these    two   years   past    have 

won  for  thee, 


The  prize  of  beauty."     Loudly  spake 

the   I'rince, 
Forbear:   there   is  a   wiirtliirr,     and 

the  kni^'ht 
With    some    surprise    aii.l    thrice    as 

much   disdain 
Turn'd,  atiil  beheld  the   four,  and  all 

his   face 
(jlow'd   like  the  heart  of  .1  i;rcat  (ire 

at    Vule, 
So   burnt   he    was  with   passion,   cry- 

inti  out, 
"  Uo   battle    for   it    then,"   no   more; 

and  thrice 
They    clash'd    to^'ethrr,     and     thrice 

they   brake   their   spears. 
I  hen    each,    dishorsed    ami    drawing, 

lash'd  at  each 
So  often   and   with  such   blows,   that 

all   the  crowd 
Wondcr'd,    and    now    and    then    from 

di^tant    walk 
There   came   a   clapping   as   of    phan- 
tom  hands. 
So  twice  they  foucht.  and  twice  the)- 

breathed,  and  si    [ 
The    dew   of   their    threat    labor,    and 

the  blood 
Oi     their     strong     boilies,      flowing, 

drain'd    their   force. 
Hut    cither's    force    was    inatch'd    till 

^  nidi's  cr)i , 
"  Remember    that    great    insult    done 

the  Queen," 
Increased   Geraint's,    who   heaved   his 

blacie  aloft, 
And    crack'd    the    helmet    thio',    and 

bit  the  bone. 
And    fell'd    him,    and    set    foot    upon 

his   breast, 
And  said,  "Thy  name?"    To  whom 

the  fallen  man 
Made    answer,     groaning,     "  Ed\rn, 

son  of  Nudd ! 
Ashamed  am   I  that  I  should   tell   it 

thee. 
My  pride  is  broken :  men  have  seen 

my   fall." 


2.V' 


IDVLI.S  OF    I'llK   KING 


"  Tlirn,    F.ilyrn,    sot)    of    NiuM,"    re- 
plied  (irralnt, 
"  Tlirsp  two  thin^N  sluilt   ttiiui  do,  or 

rlsr  thou  tlif>t. 
First,   thou   tliv-><'lt,   «i'li   llaIIl^(•l   and 

with  dwarf, 
Shalt     ride    to    Arthur's    loiirt,    and 

colIlill^,'  there, 
Crave  par. Ion  for  that  insult  done  the 

Queen, 
And  shalt  abiile  her  juil^inent  on  it; 

next, 
Thou  shalt  ^Ive  had  their  earldmn  to 

thy    kin. 
These   two  things  sljalt   thou   do,   or 

thou  slialt  die." 
And   Fd\rn  ansvscr'd,  " 'I'hese  things 

w;l.    I    .lo, 
For     I     ha\e    never    y  ^     been    over- 
thrown, 
And   th  )u   hast   overthrown   nie,   and 

my  pride 
Is   broken    dov\ri,    for    Fnid    sees    my 

fall!" 
And    risinij  up,   he  rode   to   Arthur's 

court, 
And    there    the    Queen    forgave    him 

easily. 
And    being   yountr,    he   changed    and 

came  to  loathe 
}l!s    crime    of    traitor,    slowly    drew 

himself 
lkit:ht  from  his  old  dark  life,  and  fell 

at  last 
In   the   creat   battle  fighting  for   the 

Kinjj. 

But  when  the  third  day  from  the 
huntin(;-morn 

Made  a  low  splendor  in  the  world, 
and  wings 

Moved  in  her  ivy,  Fnid,  for  she  lay 

With  her  fair  head  in  the  dim-yellow 
light. 

Among  the  dancing  shadows  of  the 
birds, 

Woke  and  bethought  her  of  her  prom- 
ise given 


No    later    than    last    eve    to    I'rince 

( irraint  — 
So  betit  he  seemd  on  going  the  third 

d.iv, 
He    w(julil     not     leave    her,     till     her 

ptoIIli^e  giver)  — 
To  ride  with  him  this  niorniiig  to  the 

court. 
And    there    be    made    knowr)    to    the 

stately   (Juet  \ 
And    there  be   weiidcd   with  all  cere- 
mony. 
At    this   she   cast    her   eyes    upon    her 

ilri'ss. 
And   thought   it  never  \et  hail   look'd 

so  mean. 
For  as  a  leaf  it)  mid-Novemlirr  is 
To    what     it     was     in     mid  (  )ctobcr, 

seem'ii 
The  dress  that  now  she  look'd  on  to 

the  dress 
She    look'd     on     ere    the    coming    of 

Geraint. 
And  still  she  look'd,  and  still  the  fr- 

rnr  grew 
Of  that  strange  bri^lit  and   dreadful 

thing,  a  court, 
All  staring  at  her   in  her   faded  silk: 
And  softly  to  her  own  sweet  heart  she 

said : 


''  This  noble  prince  w  ho  won  our 
earldom    back. 
So  splendid  in  his  acts  and  his  attire, 
Sweet  heaven,  how  much   I  shall  dis- 
credit  liiml 
Would  he  could   tarry  with  us  here 

awhile, 
i-Jut  being  so  beholden  to  the  Prince, 
It  were  but  little  grace  in  anv  of  us 
Bent  as  he  seem'd  on  going  this  thiru 

day. 
To  seek  a  second   favor  at  his  hands. 
"\'et-   if   he  could    hut   tarry   a   day   or 

two, 
Myself    would    work    eye    dim,    and 
finger  lame. 


THE  MARRIAGK  OF  GliRA'Xr 


231 


Far    lirfrr    than    so    much    distrcilit 
him." 


And    Fniil    fell    in    lonuing    for    a 

(irrss 
Ail  hranili'ii  an.'  (iowc  r'd  witti  K"id, 

a  iditly  (jift 
<)t    licr    i.'()(id    niofiicr,    >:ivrn    her    on 

tlic   niytit 
Hfforc  her  birthday,   three  sad   years 

That    niu'ht    of    fire     when     Kdyrn 

sacii'd    their    h.      e, 
And  scarter'd  ail  fhry  had  to  all  the 

winds: 
For  while  the  mother  show'd  it,  and 

the  two 
Were   fuming   and   admiring   it,    the 

work 
To   both    arpear'd    so   costly,    rose   a 

rry 
That    Edyrn's    -.vm    were   on    them, 

and  they  fled 
With  litt'e  save  the  jcwc'.i  they  had 

on, 
Which     being     sold     and     sold     had 

bought   them   bread: 
And   Kdyrn's  men   had   caught   them 

in   their   flight. 
And    placed   them    in   this   ruin ;   and 

siiC   vish'd 
The    Prince    had    found    her    in    her 

ancient   home; 
Then    let    her    fancy    flit    across    the 

past. 
And  roam  the  goodly  places  that  she 

knew ; 
And  last  bethought  her  how  she  used 

to  watch. 
Near  that  old  home,  a  pool  of  golden 

rarp; 
And    one    was    patch'd    and    blurr'd 

and  iusterless 
A.mong  his  burnish 'd  brethren  of  the 

pool ; 
And    half   asleep  she   made  compari- 
son 


Of  that  a-.  .   these  to  her  own  failed 

self 
And    the    gay    court,    and    fell    asletp 

again  ; 
And  d'eamt  lu-rsclf  w  ■■    such  a  faded 

form 
Among    hrr    hurnuliM     .,>ters    of    the 

P'Mil ; 
Hut    tl'is    was    in    the    garden    of    a 

king; 
And    tho'   she    lay    dirk    in    the    pool, 

she   knew 
That   all    w.is   bright;   that   all   about 

were  birds 
Of    sunny    plume    in     gilded     trcllis- 

VMirk  ; 
Tha'  all   the   t\irf  was   rich   in   plots 

that  lo(jk'd 
Fach    like    a    garnet    or    a    turkis    in 

it; 

And    lords    and    ladies    of    the    high 

courr  went 
In     silver     tissue     talking     things     of 

state; 
And  cluldren  of  the  King  in  cloth  of 

gold 
(ilanced    at    the    doc--    or    gsmbol'd 

down  the  walks; 
And  while  sh-  thought,  "  They  will 

not  sec  me,"  came 
A    stately    queen    whose    name    was 

Guinevere, 
And    all   the  children    in    their  cloth 

of  gold 
Ran  to  her,  crying,  "  If  we  have  fish 

at  all 
Let    them    be    gcId ;   and    charge   the 

gardeners  now 
To  pick  the  faded  creature  from  the 

pool. 
And    cast    it    on    the    mixen    that    it 

die." 
And      therewithal     one     came     and 

seized  on   her, 
And   f:nid   started   waking,  with  her 

heart 
All     overshadow'd     by     the     foolish 
dream. 


>  ■•. 


■7' 


232 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And  lo!  it  was  her  mother  grasping 

her 
To  get  her  well  awake ;  and   in  her 

hand 
A  suit   of  bright  apparel,  which  she 

laid 
Flat  on  the  couch,  and  spoke  exult- 

ingly: 

"  Sec    here,    my    child,    how    fresh 

the  colors  look. 
How  fast  they  hold  like  cDlors  of  a 

shell 
That   keeps   the  wear   and   polish   of 

the  wave. 
Why  not?     It  never  yet  was  worn, 

1  trow: 
Look  on  it,  child,  and  te'l  me  if  ye 
now  It. 

And  E  '  d  look'd,  but  all  confuseo 

at  first. 
Could     scarce    divide     it    from    her 

foolish  dream : 
Then    suddenly    she    knew     it    and 

rejoicea, 
And    answer'd     "Yea,    I    know    it; 

your  good  ^ift, 
So  sadly  lost  on  that  unhappy  night; 
"V'our      own      i.  'od      gift !  "     "  Yea, 

surely,"   sa.l   the  dame, 
"  And  gladly  given  again  this  happy 

morn. 
For    when    the    jousts    were    ended 

ycstf  iday, 
Went    Ynioi    thro'    the    town,    and 

everywhere 
He   found   the  sack   and   plunder  of 

our  house 
All  scatter'd  thro'  the  hous-s  of  the 

to«  n ; 
And    gave  command    that  all   which 

once  was  ours 
Should  now  be  ours  again:  and  yes- 

ter-eve, 
While  ye  were  talking  sweetly  with 

your  Prince, 


Came  one  with  this  and  laid  it  in  my 
hand. 

For  love  oi  fear,  or  seeking  hvor  of 
us, 

Because  we  have  our   earldom   back 
again. 

And  yester-eve  I  would  not  tell  you 
of  it. 

But   kept   it   for  a   sweet  surprise  at 
morn. 

Yea,  truly  is  it  not  a  sweet  surprise? 

For      I      myself      unwillingly      have 
worn 

My    faded    suit,    as    you,    my    child, 
have  yours, 

And  howsoever  patient,  Yniol  his. 

Ah,  dear,  he  took  me  from  a  goodly 
house. 

With  store  of  rich  apparel,  sumptu- 
ous fare. 

And  page,  and  m.       and  squire,  and 
seneschal. 

And     pastime    both    of    hawk      nd 
hound,  and  all 

That    appertains    to    noble    mainte- 
nance. 

Yea,  and  he  brought  me  to  a  goodly 
house ; 

But  since  our  fortune  swerved   from 
sun  to  shade. 

And    all    thro'    that    young    traitor, 
cruel  need 

Const.-ain'd  us,  but  a  better  tii.  ::  has 
come; 

So  clothe  yourself  in    ihis,   that   bet- 
ter fits 

Our  mended  fortunes  and  a  Prince's 
bride: 

For  the'  ye  won  the  prize  of  fairest 
fair, 

And  tho'  I  heard  him  call  you  fairest 
fair, 

Let    never    maiden    think,    I.owever 
fair, 

She  is  not  fairer  in  new  clothes  than 
old. 

And    should    some    grea.    court-lady 
say,  the  Prince 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  GERAINT 


233 


Hath  pick'd  a  ragged-robin  from  the  As  this  great  Prince  invaded  us,  and 

hedge,  ue, 

And   like  a  madman   brought   her  to  Not    beat    him    back,    but    welcomed 

the  court,  him  uitti  joy. 

Then   were  ye   shamed,   and,    worse.  And  1  can  scarcely  ride  with  you  to 

might  shame  the  Prince  court, 

To   whom   we  are   beholden;   but   I  For  old  am   I,  and  rough   the  ways 

know,  and  wild ; 

When  my  dear  child  is  set  forth  at  But  Yniol  goes,  and  I  full  oft  sh?" 

her  best,  dream 

That  neither  court  nor  country,  tho'  I  see  my  princess  as  I  see  her  now, 

they  sought  Clothed  with  my  gift,  and  gay  among 
Thro'  all  the  provinces  like  those  of  the  gay." 

old 
That  lighted  on   Queen  Esther,  has         But    while    the    women    thus    re- 

her  match."  joiced,  Geraint 

Woke    where    he    slept    in    the    high 
hall,  and  call'd 

Here  ceased  the  kindly  mother  out  For    Enid,    and    when    ^niol    made 

of  breath ;  report 

And  Enid  listen'd  brightening  as  she  Of  that  good   mother  making  Enid 

lay ;  gay 

Then,    as    the    white    and    glittering  In    such   apparel   a.s   might   well   be- 

star  of  morn  seem 

Parts  from  a  bank  of  snow,  and  by  His    princess,    or    indeed    the   stately 

and  by  Queen, 

Slips  into  golden   cloud,   the  maiden  He    ansvver'd:     "Earl,    entreat    her 

rose,  by  my  love. 

And    left    her    maiden    couch,    and  Albeit  I  give  no  reason  but  my  wish, 

robed  herself,  That  she  ride  with  me  in  her  faded 
Help'd  by  the  mother's  careful  hand  silk." 


and  eye, 
Without    a  mirror,    in    the   gorgeous 

gown ; 
Who,     after,     turn'd     her     daughter 

round,  and  said, 
'^'.;   never  yet  had   seen   her   half  so 

fair ; 
And   call'd   her   like   that  maiden   in 

the  tale. 


Yniol  with  that  hard  message  went; 

it  fell 
Like    flaws   in    summer    laying   lusty 

corn: 
For  Enid,  all  abash'd  she  knew  not 

why, 
Dared    not    to    glance   at    her    good 

mother's   face. 
But  silently,  in  all  obedience. 


Whom    Gwydion    made    by    glamor  Her   mother   silent   too,   nor   helping 

out   of   flowers,  her, 

And  sweeter  than  the  bride  of  Cas-  Laid     from     her    limbs    the    costly- 

sivelaun,  broider'd   gift, 

Flur,    for    whose    love    the    Roman  And   robed  them  in  her  ancient  suit 


Csnsar  hrst 


agam, 


Invaded  Britain,  "  But  we  beat  him     And   so  descended.     Never  man   re- 
back,  joiced 


234 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


More  than  Geraint  to  greet  her  thus 
attired ; 

And  glancing  all  at  once  as  keenly  at 
her 

As  careful  robins  eye  the  delver's 
toil, 

Made  her  cheek  burn  and  either  eye- 
lid fall, 

But  rested  wlih  her  sweet  face  satis- 
fied; 

Then  seeing  cloud  upon  the  mother's 
brow, 

Her  by  both  hands  he  caught,  and 
sweetly  said, 

"  O  T.y  new  mother,  be  not  wroth 
or  grieved 
A.c  thy  new   son,   for  my  petition  to 

her. 
When  late  I  left  Caerleon,  our  great 

Queen, 
In  words  whose  echo  lasts,  they  were 

so  sweet. 
Made   promise,   that   whatever   bride 

I   brought. 
Herself    would    clothe    her    like    the 

sun  in   Heaven. 
Thereafter,     when     1     reach'd     this 

ruin'd  hall. 
Beholding    one    so    bright    in    dark 

estate, 
I  vow'd  that  could   I   gain  her,  our 

fair  Queen. 
No  hand  but  hers,  should  make  your 

Enid  burst 
Sunlike    from    cloud  —  and    likewise 

thought  perhaps. 
That     service     done     so     graciously 

would  bind 
The  two  together ;  fain  I  would  the 

two 
Should    love    each    other:    how    can 

Enid  find 
A   nobler    friend?     Another   thought 

was  mine; 
I  came  among  you  here  so  suddenly, 
That  tho'  her  gentle  presence  at  the 

lists 


Might    well    have    served    for    proof 

that  1  was  loved, 
I    doubted    whether    daughter's    ten- 
derness, 
Or     easy     nature,     might     not     let 

itself 
Be   molded   by   your   wishes    hr   her 

weal ; 
Or  whether  some  false  sense   in  her 

own  self 
Of  my   contrasting  brightness,   over- 
bore 
Her    fancy    dwelling    in    this    dusky 

hall; 
And   such    a   sense   might   make   her 

long  for  court 
And    all    its   perilous   glories:   and    I 

thought. 
That   could    I    someway   prove   such 

force  in  her 
Link'd   with  such   love   for  me,   that 

at  a  word 
(No    reason    given    her)     she    cr'ild 

cast  aside 
.\     plendor  dear  to  women,  new  to 

her. 
And   therefore  dearer;   or  if   not  so 

new. 
Yet  therefore  tenfold   dearer  by   the 

power 
Of  intermitted  usage;  then   I   felt 
That  I  could  rest,  a  rock  in  ebbs  and 

flows, 
Fixt  on  her  faith.     Now,  therefore, 

I  do  rest, 
A  prophet  certain  of  my  prophecy, 
That  .never  shadow  of  mistrust  can 

cross 
Between   us.     Grant   me  pardon   for 

my  thoughts: 
And   for  my  strange  petition   I  will 

make 
Amends    hereafter    by    some    gaudy- 
day. 
When    your    fair    child    shall    wear 

your  costly  gift 
Beside  your  own  warm  hearth,  witli, 
on   her   knees. 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 


235 


Who  knows?  another  gift  of  the  high 

God, 
Which,  maybe,  shall  have  learn'd  to 

lisp  you  thanks." 

He  spoke;  the  mother  smiled,  but 

half  in  tears, 
Then   brought   a  mantle   down   and 

wrapt  her  in  it, 
And  claspt  and  kiss'd  her,  and  they 

rode  away. 

Now  thrice  that  morninf  Guine- 
vere had  climb'd 

The  giant  tower,  from  whose  high 
crest,  they  say. 

Men  saw  the  goodly  hills  of  Somer- 
set, 

And  white  sails  flying  on  the  yellow 
sea; 

But  not  to  goodly  hill  or  yellow  sea 

Look'd  the  fair  Quee.n,  but  up  tha 
vale  of  Usk, 

By  the  flat  meadow,  till  she  saw  them 
come ; 

And  then  descending  met  them  at 
the  gates. 

Embraced  her  with  all  welcome  as  a 
friend. 

And  did  her  honor  as  the  Prince's 
bride. 

And  clothed  her  for  her  bridals  like 
the  sun ; 

And  all  that  week  was  old  Caerleon 

gay. 

For  by  the  hands  of  Dubric,  the  high 

saint. 
They   twain    were   wedded    with   all 

ceremony. 

And   this   was   on    the   last   year's 

Whitsuntide. 
But  Enid  ever  kept  the  faded  silk, 
Remembering  how   nrst  he  came  on 

her, 
Drcst    in    that    dress,    and    how    lie 

loved  her  in  it, 


And  all   her  foolish   fears  about  the 

dress, 
And  all   his  journey   toward  her,  as 

himself 
Had   told   her,   and   their  coming  to 

the  court. 

And    now   this   morning   when    he 

said  to  her, 
"  Put    on    your     ••orst    and    meanest 

dress,"  she  lound 
And    took    it,    and    array'd    he   «if 

therein. 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 

0  PLRBLIND  race  of  miserable  men 
How   many  among   us   at    this  very 

hour 

Do  forge  a  life-long  trouble  for  our- 
selves. 

By  taking  true  for  false,  or  false  for 
true; 

Here,  thro'  the  feeble  twilight  of 
this  world 

Groping,  how  many,  until  we  pass 
and  reach 

That  other,  where  we  see  as  we  are 
seen! 

So    fared    it    with    Geraint,    who 

issuing  forth 
That  morning,  when   they  both   had 

got  to  horse, 
Perhaps    because    he    loved    her    pas- 
sionately. 
And     felt     that     tempest     brooding 

round   his  heart. 
Which,    if    he    spoke    at    all,    woi.ld 

break  perforce 
Upon    a    head    so    dear    in    thunder, 

said : 
"  Not  at  my  side.     I  charge  thee  ride 

before, 
Ever  a  good    .ay  on  before;  and  this 

1  charge  tluc,  on  thy  duty  as  a  wife, 


236 


idylls  of  the  king 


Whatever   happens,   not   to  spt  ik   to 
me, 

No,    not   a   word!"    and    Enid    was 
aghast ; 

And    forth    they    rode,    but    scarce 
three  paces  on, 

When  crying  out,  "  Effeminate  as  I 
am, 

I  will  not  fight  my  way  with  gilded 
arms. 

All    shall    be    iron;"     he    loosed    a 
mighty  purse, 

Hung    at    his    belt,    and    hurl'd     it 
toward    the  squire. 

So  the   last   sight   that    Enid   had   of 
home 

Was  all   the  marble   threshold   flash- 
ing, strown 

With  gold  and  scattcr'd  coinage,  and 
the  squire 

Chafing  his  shoulder:   then  he  cried 
again, 

"To  the  wilds!"  and   Enid  leading 
down   the  tracks 

Thro'  which  he  bade  her  lead  him  on, 
they  past 

The  marches,  and  by  bandit-haunted 
holds. 

Gray  swamps  and  pools,  waste  places 
of  the  hern, 

And      wildernesses,      perilous     paths, 
they  rode: 

Round    was   their   pace   at   first,   but 
slacken'd  soon : 

A  stranger  meeting  them  had  surely 
thought 

They  rode  so  slowly  and  they  look'd 
so  pale, 

Tl  at  each  had  suffer'd  some  exceed- 
ing wrong. 
For    he    was    cv?r    saving    to    him- 
self, 
"  O  I  that  w  asted  time  to  tend  upon 
her, 

To  cotiipass  her  with   sweet  observ- 
ances, 
To    dress   her    beautifully    and    keep 
her  true  '    — 


And   there  he  broke  the  sentence  in 

his  heart 
Abruptly,  as  a  man  upon  his  tongue 
May     break     it,     when     his    passion 

masters   him. 
And  she  was  ever  praying  the  sweet 

heavens 
To  save   her   dear   lord   whole   from 

any  wouad. 
And  ever  in  her  mind  she  cast  about 
For  that  unnoticed  failing  in  herself, 
Which  made  him  look  so  cloud\   and 

so  cold  ; 
Till  the  great  plover's  human  whistle 

amazed 
Her   heart,   and    glancing  round    the 

waste  she  fcar'd 
1   every   v\avering  brake  an   ambus- 
cade. 
Then    thought    again,    "  If    there    be 

such  in  me, 
I    might   amend    it   by   the   grace   of 

Heaven, 
H  he  would  onl"  speak  and  tell  me 

of  it." 

But  when   the   fourth  part  of  the 

day  was  gone. 
Then    Enid  was  aware  of  three  tall 

knights 
On  horseback,  wholly  arm'd,  behind 

a  rock 
In  shadow,  waiting  for  them,  caitiflEs 

ail; 
And  heard  one  crying  to  his  fellows, 

Look, 
Here  comes  a  laggard  hanging  down 

his  head. 
Who  ^eems  no  bolder  than  a  beaten 

h'  and  ; 
Come,    we    will    slay    him    and    will 

have  his  horse 
And  armor,  and  his  damsel  shall  be 

ours." 

Then  Enid  ponder'd  In  her  heart, 
and  said  • 
"  I  will  go  back  a  little  to  my  lord, 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 


And   I  will  tell  him  all   thfir  caitiff 

talk; 
For,  be  he  wroth  even  to  slaying  me, 
Far   liefer   by   his   dear   hand    had    I 

die, 
Than    that    my    lord    should    suffer 

loss  or  shame." 

Then  she  went  back  some  paces 
of  return 

Met  his  full  frown  timidly  firm,  and 
said ; 

"  My  lord,  I  saw  three  bandits  by  tlie 
rock 

Waiting  to  fall  on  you,  and  heard 
them  boast 

That  they  would  slay  you,  and  pos- 
sess your  horse 

And  armor,  and  your  damsel  should 
be  theirs." 

He  made  a  wrathful  answer: 
"Did  I  wish 

Your  warning  or  your  silence?  one 
command 

I  laid  upon  you,  not  to  speak  to  me, 

And  thus  ye  keep  it!  Well,  then, 
look  —  for  now, 

Wliether  ye  wish  me  victory  or  de- 
feat. 

Long  for  my  life,  or  hunger  for  my 
death, 

Yourself  shall  see  mv  vigor  is  not 
lost." 

'fhen  Ivnid  waitid  pale  and  sor- 
rowful, 

And  do\vn  upon  him  bare  the  bandit 
three. 

And  at  the  midmost  charging. 
Prince  Geraint 

Dravc  the  long  spear  a  ci-bit  thro' 
his  breast 

A  )d  out  beyond;  and  then  against 
his  brace 

Of  comrades,  each  of  v,  horn  had 
broken  on  him 

A  lance  that  splinter'd  like  an  icicle. 


Swung  from  his  brand  a  windy  buf- 
fet out 

Once,    twice,    to    right,    to   left,    and 
stunn'd   the  twain 

Or  slew  them,  and  dismounting  like 
a  man 

That  skins  the  wild  beast  after  slay- 
ing him, 

Stript  from  the  three  dead  wolves  of 
woman  born 

The  three  gay  suits  of  armor  which 
they  wore. 

And    let    the    bodies    lie,    but    bound 
the  suits 

Of   armor   on    their   horses,    each   on 
each. 

And   tied    the  bridle-reins  of  all   the 
three 

Together,    and   said    to   her,   "  Drive 
them  on 

Before   you ;  "    and    she    drove    them 
thro'  the  waste. 


He  follow'd  nearer:  ruth  began  to 

work 
Against   his   anger   in   him,  while  he 

watch 'd 
The  being  he  loved   best  in   all   the 

world, 
With  difficulty  in  mild  obedience 
Driving  them  on:  he  fain  had  spoken 

to  her. 
And   loosed   in  words  of  sudden   fire 

the  vv  rath 
And    smoider'd    wrong    that    burnt 

him  all  within ; 
But    evermore    it    seem'd    an    easier 

thing 
At    once    without    remorse    to    strike 

her  dead, 
Than  to  cry  "  Halt,"  and  to  her  own 

bright  face 
Accuse  her  of  the  least  immodesty: 
And    thus   tongue-tied,    it   made   him 

wroth  the  more 
That  she  ro.  .'tl  speak  whom  his  own 

ear  had  heard 


238 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Call  herself  false:  and  sufferinK  thus 

he  made 
Minutes  an  ape:  but  in  scarce  longer 

time 
Than     at     Caerleon     the     full-tided 

L'sk, 
Before  he  turn  to  fall  seaward  aKain, 
Pauses,     did     P'.nid,     keeping     watch, 

behold 
In  the  first  shallow  shade  of  a  deep 

wood, 
IL'fore    1   gloom   of   stubborn-shafted 

oaks, 
Three       other       horsemen       waiting, 

wliolly  arm'd. 
Whereof  one  seem'd   far  larger  than 

her  lord. 
And  shook  her  pulses,  crying,  "  Look, 

a  prize! 
Three  horses  and   three  goodly  suits 

of  arms. 
And  all  in  charge  of  whom?  a  girl: 

set  on." 
"  Nay,"    said    the    second,    "  yonder 

comes  a  knight." 
The  third,  "  A  craven ;  how  he  hangs 

his  head." 
The   giant   answer'd   merrily,   "  Yea, 

but  one? 
Wait  here,  and  when  he  passes  tall 

upon  him.'' 

And  Enid  ponder'd  in  her  heart 
and  said, 

"  I  will  abide  the  coming  of  my 
lord, 

And  I  will  tell  him  all  their  villainy. 

My  lord  is  weary  with  the  fight  be- 
fore, 

And  they  will  fall  upon  him  un- 
awares. 

I  need:  must  disobey  him  for  his 
good  ; 

How  should  I  dare  obey  him  to  his 
larm  ? 

Needs  must  I  speak,  and  the'  he  kill 
me  for  it, 


1    save    a    life    dearer    to    me    than 
mine." 

And    she    abode    his   coming,    and 

said  to  h.iTi 
Witii  timid  firmness,  "  Have  1  leave 

to  s|"  ak  ?  " 
He  said,  "  Ye  take  it,  speakmg,"  and 

she  spoke. 

"  There  lurk  three  villains  yonder 

in  the  wood, 
And    each   of   thein    is   wholly   arm'd, 

and  one 
Is    larger-limb\l    than    you    are,    and 

they  say 
That  they  will   fall  upon  you  while 

ye  pass." 

To    which    he    flung    a    wrathful 

answer  back : 
"  And  if  there  were  an  hundred  in 

the  wood, 
And    every    man    were    larger-limb'd 

than  I, 
And    all    at    once    should    sally    out 

upon  me, 
I    swear   it   would   not   ruffle   me   so 

much 
As    you    that    not    obey    me.     Stand 

a'iide, 
And    ii    I    fall,   cleave   to   the  better 

man." 

And  Enid  stood  aside  to  wait  the 

event, 
Not  dare  to  watch  the  combat,  only 

breathe 
Short  fits  of  prayer,  at  every  stroke 

a  breath. 
And     he,    she    dreaded     most,    bare 

down  upon  him. 
Aim'd   at   the  hilm,  his  lance  err'd ; 

but  Geraint's, 
A     little     in     the     late     encounter 

strain'd. 
Struck  thro'  the  bulky  bandit's  corsc' 

let  home, 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 


239 


And  tiien  brake  short,  and  down  his 

enemy   roU'd, 
And   there  lay  still;  as  he   that  tells 

the  tale 
Saw  once  a  great  piece  of  a  promon- 

torj', 
That   had    a  sapling  £- vwinn  on    it, 

slide 
From    th"    long    shore-cliff's    windy 

walls  to  the  b(  .ich, 
And   there  lie  still,  and  yet  the  sap- 
ling grew : 
So     lay      [he     man      transfixt.     iiis 

craven   pair 
Of  comrades  making  slowlier  at  the 

Prince, 
When   now   they  saw  their   bulwark 

fallen,  stood  ; 
On    whom    the    victor,    to    confound 

them  more, 
Sp"    'i    with    l.is    terrible    war-cry; 

for  as  one, 
That    listens    near    a    torrent    moun- 
tain-brook, 
All  thro'  the  crash  of  the  near  cata- 
ract   hears 
The  drumming  thunder  of  the  huger 

fall 
At  distance,  where  the  soldiers  wont 

to  hear 
His  voice  in   battle,   and   be  kindled 

by  it, 
And    foemen    scared,    like    that    false 

pair  who  turn'd 
Flying,  but,  overtaken,  died   the  death 
Themselves    had    wrought    on    many 
an  innocent. 

Thereon      Geraint,      dismounting, 

pick'd  the  lance 
That    pleased    him    best,    and    drew 

from  those  dead   wolves 
Their  three  gay  suits  of  armor,  each 

from  each. 
And    bound    them    on    their    horses, 

each  on  each. 
And   tied   the  bridle-reins  of  all   the 

three 


Together,   and    said    to   her,    "  Drive 

them  on 
Before    you,"    and    she    drove    them 

thro'  the  wood. 

He  follow'!  H'-arer  still:  the  pain 

she  had 
To   keep    them    in    the   wild   ways   of 

the  wood. 
Two  sets   of  three  laden   with  jing- 
ling arms, 
1  ogethcr,  served   a  little   to  disedge 
The  sharpness  of  that  pain  about  her 

heart: 
And    they    themselves,    like    creatures 

gently  born 
Rut  into  bad   han^ls  fall'n,  and  now 

so  long 
By    bandits    groom'd,    prick  d    their 

light  ears,  and  felt 
Her  Io\x    firm  voice  and  tender  gov- 

ernment. 

So   thro'   the   green    gloom   of  the 

wood  they  past, 
\nd     issuing     under     open     heavens 

beheld 
.1   little   town   with   towers,    upon   a 

rock, 
And   close  beneath,   a  meadow   gem- 
like chased 
In     the    brown    wild,    and    mowers 

mowing  in  it: 
And  down  a  rocky  pathway  from  the 

place 
There  came  a  fair-hair'd  youth,  that 

in  his  hand 
Bare    victual    for    the    mowers:    and 

Geraint 
Had    ruth    again    on    Enid    looking 

pale: 
Then,     moving     downward     to     the 

meadow  ground. 
He,  when  thi   fair-h.  ir'd  youth  came 

by   him,   Sf^i.i, 
"  Friend,   let   her  eat ;   the  damsel   is 

so  faint." 


240 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


"Yea,  willingly,"  replied  the  youth; 

"  and   thou, 
My   lord,   eat   also,   tho'   the   fare   is 

coarse. 
And   only   meet    for   mowers;"   then 

set  down 
His  basket,   and  dismounting  on   the 

sward 
They   let   the   horsis   graze,   and   ate 

themselves. 
And    Enid   took   a   little   delicately, 
Less  having  stomach   lor  it  than  de- 
sire 
To    close    with    her    lord's    pleasure; 

but  Geraint 
Ate     all     the    mowers'     victual     un- 
awares, 
And  when  he   found   all  empty,  was 

amazed  ; 
And  "  Boy,"  said  he,  "  I  have  eaten 

all,  but  take 
A    horse    and     arms     for     guerdon; 

choose  the  best." 
He,    reddening    in    extremity    of    de- 
light, 
"  My    lord,    you    overpay    me   titty- 

fold." 
"  Ye  will  be  all  the  \\ealthier,"  cried 

the  Prince. 
"  I    take  it   as   free  gift,   then,"   said 

the  hoy, 
"  Not  guerdon;  for  myself  can  easily. 
While   your    good    damsel    rests,    re- 
turn, and   fetch 
Fresh  victual  for  these  mowers  of  our 

Earl; 
For  these  are  his,   and   all   the  field 

is  his. 
And  I  myself  am  his;  and  I  will  tell 

him 
How  great  a  man  thou  art;  he  loves 

to  know 
Wlien  men  of  mark  are  in  his  terr  - 

tory : 
And  he  will  have  thee  to  his  palace 

here. 
And    serve    thee    costlier    than    with 
mowers'  fare." 


Then    said    Geraini,    "  I    wish    no 

better   fare: 
I  never  ate  « ith  angrier  appetite 
Than  when   1   left  your  mowers  dln- 

nerless. 
And  into  no  Karl's  p.ilace  will   I   go. 
I    know,    (iod    knows,    too    muJi    of 

palaces ! 
And  if  he  want  m'     let  him  come  to 

me. 
But   hire   us   some    fan    chamber   for 

the  night, 
And    stalling    for    the    horses,    and 

return 
^Vith  victual  for  these  men,  and  let 

us  know." 

"  Yea,    my    kind    lord,"    said    the 

glad  youth,  and  went. 
Held    his    head    high,    and    thought 

himself  a  knight, 
And    up    the    rock)     pathway    disap- 

pear'd. 
Leading    the    horse,    and    they    were 

left  alone. 

But  when  the  Prince  had  brought 

his  errant  eyes 
Home  from  the  rock,  sideways  he  let 

them   glance 
At  Enid,  where  she  droopt:  his  own 

false  doom. 
That     shadow     of     mistrust     should 

never  cross 
Betwixt   them,  came   upon   him,  and 

he  sigh'd ; 
Then    with    another    humorous    ruth 

remark'd 
The    lusty   mowers   laboring   dinner- 

le;-,s. 
And    uatch'd    the   sun   blaze   on    the 

turning   scythe. 
And    after    nodded    sleepily    In    the 

heat. 
But  she,  remembering  her  old  ruin'd 

hall, 
And    all    the    windy    clamor    of    the 

daws 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 


241 


About  her  hollow  turret,  pluck'd  the 

gruis 
There  growing  longest  by  tlie  int-ad- 

o«  s  cd^r, 
And   into  many  a  listless  annulet, 
Now    over,    now    beneath    her    mar- 
riage ring, 
Wove   and    unwove    it,    till    the   boy 

return'd 
And    told    them    ot    a   chamber,   and 

they  went; 
Where,   after  saying  to  her,  "  If  ye 

will, 
Call    for   the  woman   of  the  house," 

to  which 
She  answer'd,   "Thanks,  my   lord;" 

the  two  remain'd 
Apart    by    all    the    chamber's    width, 

and  mute 
As  creatures  voiceless  thro'  the  fault 

of  birth, 
Or   two   wild    men   supporters   of   a 

shield. 
Painted,  who  stare  at  open  space,  nor 

glance 
The    one    at    other,    parted    by    the 

shield. 

On  a  sudden,  many  a  voice  along 
the  street. 

And  heel  against  the  pavement  echo- 
ing, burst 

Their  drowse;  and  either  started 
while  the  door, 

Push'd  from  without,  drave  back- 
ward to  the  wall, 

And  midmost  of  a  rout  of  roisterers, 

Femininely   fair  and  dissolutely  pale, 

Her  suitor  in  old  years  before  Ger- 
aint, 

Enter'd,  the  wild  lord  of  the  place, 
Limours. 

He  moving  up  with  pliant  courtli- 
ness. 

Greeted  Geraint  full  face,  but 
stealthily. 

In  the  mid-warmth  of  welcome  and 
graspt  hand. 


Found  Enid  with  the  corner  of  his 
eye. 

And  knew  her  sitting  sad  and  soli- 
tary. 

1  hen  cried  (Jeraint  for  wine  and 
goodly   cheer 

1  o  feed  the  sudden  guest,  and  sump- 
tuously 

According  to  his  fa.^hion,  bade  the 
host 

Call  in  what  men  soevir  were  his 
friends, 

.'\nd  feast  with  these  in  honor  of 
their  Earl; 

"  And  care  not  for  the  -ost ;  the  cost 
is  mine." 


And  wine  and  food  were  brought, 

and   Earl   I.imours 
Drank   till   he  jested   with   all   ease, 

and   told 
Free   tales,   and    took   the  word   and 

play'd   upon   it, 
And  made  it  of  two  colors;  for  his 

talk, 
VV^hen    wine    and     free    companions 

kindled   him, 
Was  wont  to  glance  and  sparkle  like 

a  gem 
Of  fifty   facets;   thus  he  moved   the 

Prince 
To    laughter    and    his    comrades    to 

applause. 
'Ihen,   when   the    Prince  was  merry, 

ask'd   Limours, 
"  "\'our  leave,   my   lord,  to  cross  the 

room,   and  speak 
To  your  good  damsel  there  who  sits 

apart. 
And   seems  so  lonely?"     "My  free 

leave,"  he  said ; 
"Get   her    to    speak:    she    doth    not 

speak   to  me." 
Then   rose  Limours,  and   looking  at 

his  feet, 
Like   him    who   tries    the   bridge   he 

fears  may  fail, 


w 


!42 


IDYLI.S  or    11  li:   KING 


Crost  and  came  iifar,   lifti-il  aiimiiij; 


cyt's, 


Bow'd  at  her  side  and  uttcr'd  uliis- 
pcringly: 


"  Knid,   the  pilot   star  of  my   lone 
life, 

Eni.l,  my  early  and  my  only   love, 

Enid,  the  loss  of  whom   hath  turn'd 
me  wild  — 

What  chance  is  tliis?  how  is  it  I  see 
you  here? 

Ye  are  in  my   power  at   last,  are  in 
my  power. 

Vet    fear   me   not:    I    call   mine   own 
self  wild. 

But  keep  a  touch  of  sweet  civility 

Here  in  the  heart  and  waste  of  wil- 
derneb-s. 

1  thought,  but  that  your  father  came 
between, 

In    former   days  you   saw   me   favor- 
ably. 

And    if    it    were   so    do    not    keep    it 
back: 

Make    me    a    little    happier:    let    me 
know  it : 

Owe  you  me  nothing  for  a  life  half- 
lost? 

Yea,  yea,  the  whole  dear  debt  of  all 
you  are. 

And,   Enid,  you  and   he,   I  see  v.ith 

joy. 

Ye   sit    apart,   you   do   not   speak    to 

him. 
You  come  with  no  attendance,   pajje 

or  maid, 
To  serve  you  —  doth  he  love  you  as 

of  old? 
For,    call    it   lovers'    quarrels,    yet    I 

know 
Tho'  men  may  bicker  with  the  things 

they  love. 
They  would   not   make   them   laugh- 
able in  all  eyes, 
Not    while    they    loved    them;    and 

your  wretched  dress, 


A    w  rctihcd    insult    on    you,    dumbly 

speaks 
^  our  story,   that   this  man   hms  ynu 

no  more. 
^ Our    beaut\     is    no    beauty    to    hini 

i!'A\  : 
A    C'lmninn     i    .iii^e  —  r.^ht     v\t        I 

kiMw    it  -  -  pali'd  — 
Fur    1    knn\\    men:   nor   will   ye   w  ii 

him  back, 
I'or   the  man's  love  once   ^niie   never 

return-. 
JJut  here   .-.  one  whd    mves  you  as  of 

old; 
With    more    exceeding    passion    than 

of  old 
Good,  speak  the    \ord:  my      )llowers 

ring  him  round  : 
He  sits  unauii'd;   1   hold  a  finger  up; 
They    unde.-tand:    nay;    1    do    not 

mean   blood  : 
Nor  nceil  ye  look  so  sea'  d  at  what  I 

say: 
My  malice  is  no  deeper  than  a  moat. 
No  stronger  than  a  wall:  tiiere  is  the 

keep; 
He   shall    not   cross    us   more;   speak 

but  the  w  ord  : 
Or  speak   it   not;   but   then  by    Him 

that  made  me 
The  one  true  h  ver  whom  you  ever 

own'd, 
I   will  make  use  of  all   the  power  I 

have. 
O   pardon   nie!   the   madness  of   that 

hou  r. 
When     first     I     parted     from     thee, 
moves  me  yet." 


At   this   the  tender   sound    of   his 

own  voice 
.And  sweet  self-pity,  or  the  fancy  of 

it. 
Made     his     eye     moist;     but     Enid 

fear'd  his  eyes. 
Moist     as     they     were,    wine-heated 

from  the  feast; 


I 

i 
I 


GhRAINT  AND  hXID 


24-? 


And    answer'd    with    such    cratt    as 

u  oiiirn  use, 
Guilty    or    guiltless,    to    stave    oil    a 

t'hancr 
'li.it    hrraks    upon    thcni    perilously, 

and  sai<i : 

Karl,  if  you  love  ine  as  in  for- 
nirr  years. 

And  do  not  practise  on  nie,  come 
with  morn. 

And  snatch  me  fruin  i:im  ,i>  by  vio- 
lence ; 

Leave  me  to-nii;lu  I  am  weary  to 
the  death.' 

Low  at  leave  taking,  with  his 
brandish'd    phinie 

lirushinj;  his  instep,  bow'd  the  all- 
amorous  Larl, 

And  the  stout  Prince  bade  him  a  loud 
good  nit;ht. 

He  movii  ,  homeward  h  hbled  to  his 
men, 

flow  Enid  n<  er  loved  a  man  but 
m, 

Nor  red  a  broken  egg-shell  for  her 
lord. 

But   Knid    left   alone   with    Prince 

Geraint, 
r)ebating    his    command     'if    silence 

given, 
And     that    she    now    perforce    must 

violate  it. 
Held     commune    with     herself,     and 

while  she  held 
He    fell    ash'ep,    and    Enid    had    no 

he.-'  rt 
To   wa^e   him,    hut   hung  o'er   him, 

wholly   pleased 
T      find    him    yet    unwounded    after 

fight, 
And    hear    him    breathing    low    and 

equally. 
Annn  she  rose,  and  stepping  lightly, 

hcap'd 
riie  pieces  of  his  armor  in  one  place, 


All     to    he     their    airainst    a    tudi.eii 

neeJ  ; 
I  hen  dii/rd  awhile  herself,   but  over- 
toil'd 

Hy    that  day's  (;rief  and   travel,  evei 
more 

Secni'd   catching   at   a    rootless   thorn, 
,;nd   then 

VV^ent    slipping    down    I'lrrible    preci- 
pices, 

And   stron;;ly   striking  out   her   limbs 
aw  oke  ; 

Then    thought    she    !uard    the    wild 
Earl  at   the  dooi , 

With    all    his    rout    oi    random     tol- 
louers, 

Sound  on   a  dreadful   truiiijiet,   sum- 
moning  her; 

Which  was  the  red  cock  slwmting  to 
the  light. 

As    the    gray     lawn    stole    o'er    the 
dewy    world. 

And   ^.'limmer'd  on   his  armor  in  the 
room. 

And  once  again   she   lose  to  look  at 

But    touch'd    it    unawares:    jangling, 

the  casque 
Fell,  and  he  started  up  and  stared  at 

her. 
Then     breaking     nis     command     of 

silence   given. 
She  told   him  all  that  Earl   Limours 

had  said, 
P!!xcept  the  passage  that  hi      ived  her 

not ; 
Nor  left  untold  the  craft  herself  had 

used ; 
But  ended  with  apology  so  sweet, 
Low-spoKcn,    and    of   so    few    words, 

and  seem'd 
So  justified  by  that  necessity. 
That  tho'  he  thought,  "  Was  it   for 

him  she  wept 
In  Devon?  "  he  but  gave  a  wrathful 

groan, 
Saying,     "  V'our    sweet     faces    make 

good    fellows   fo"'s 


244 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Ami  traitors.     Call  the  liD'.t  ami  bid 

liifii  brinn 
Charprr  and  palfrry."     Si>  siif  kjlidcd 

out 
Amonii  the   tiiavy   brrathinn^   of   the 

lioiisf, 
And    lilcr   a   household   Spirit   at   the 

wall". 
Beat,   till   '.hf  v\oltc  tiie  slcrprr*,   and 

rcturn'd : 
Then    tendin|{   her    rout;h    lord,    tho' 

all  unask'<l, 
In    silentf,     did     him    service    as    a 

squire ; 
Till   issuing  arm'd  he  found  tlie  host 

and  tried, 
"Thy    reckoning,    friend?"    and    ere 

he  learnt  it,  "  Take 
Five  horses  and   their  armors;"  and 

the  host 
Suddenly  honest,  answer'd  in  amaze, 
"  My    lord,    I    scarce   have   spent    tlie 

worth  of  one!  " 
"  Ye  will  be  all  the  wealthier,"  said 

the  Prince, 
And    then   to   Enid,   "Forward!    and 

to-day 
I   charge  you,   Knid,   more  especially. 
What  thing  soever  ye  may  hear,  or 

see, 
Or  fancy    (tho'   I   count   it  of  small 

use 
To   charge   you)    that   ye   speak   not 

but  obey." 


And  Enid  answer'd,  "  Yea,  my 
lord,  I  know 

Your  wish,  and  would  obey;  but  rid- 
ing first, 

I  hear  the  violent  threats  you  do  not 
hear, 

I  see  the  danger  which  you  cannot 
see: 

Then  not  to  give  you  warning,  th.it 
seems  hard  ; 

Almost  beyond  me:  yet  I  would 
obey." 


"  Vea  so,"  said  he,  "  do  it:  br  not 

too  wise  ; 
Seeing  that  >c  are  wedded  to  a  man, 
,N()t    all    mismated    with    a    yawning 

clown. 
Hut  one  with  arms  to  guard  his  head 

and  yours, 
With   eyes  to   fmd   vou   out   however 

t.iri 
And    ears    to   hear   you    even    in    his 

dreams." 

Witli  that  he  turn'd  and  lf)ok'd  as 
keenly  at   her 

As  careful  robins  eye  the  diKer's 
toil; 

And  that  within  her,  which  a  wan- 
ton fool. 

Or  h:isty  judger  would  have  call'd 
her  guilt. 

Made  her  cheek  burn  and  either  eye- 
lid fall. 

And  Geraint  look'd  and  wa.s  not 
satisfied. 

Then    forward    by    a    way   vvhich, 

beaten  broad. 
Led     from     the     territory     of     false 

Limours 
To    the    waste    earldom    of    another 

earl, 
Doorm,    whom    his    shaking    vassals 

call'd  the  Bull, 
Went  Enid  with  her  sullen  follower 

on. 
Once  she  look'd  back,  and  when  she 

saw  him   ride 
More  near  by  many  a  rood  than  yes- 

ter-morn, 
It  well-nigh   made  her  cheerful;   till 

Geraint 
Waving    an     angry     hand     as    who 

should  say 
"  Y'e    watch    me,"    sadden'd    all    her 

heart  again. 
But  while   the  sun  yet  beat  a  dewy 

blade 


GERAIM    AND  KNID 


24'; 


I'lir  sound  of  many  a  hrnvilvKallop- 

inn  hoot 
Smote  (H  hrr  rar,  anil  tiiinm;;  round 

slir  saw 
Dust,  and  tlir  point-.  .>i  laiui>  liic  Lcr 

in   it. 
Thrn    not    to    diMibrv    licr    lunl '5    lic- 

hcst, 
And  yet  to  n'lve  liiiii  vvjiiiin^;,   lor  he 

rodr 
As  if  lie  licani   nor,  ino>  ir)^  baiL  she 

hrid 
Ilir    lintjcr    up,    ajul    pointed    t!i    the 

(lust. 
At    v\hiih    the    warrior    in    hi-,    olisti- 

nacy, 
Hetausf    she    kept    tlie    letter    of    his 

word, 
Was  in  a  manner  pleased,  and  turn- 
ing, stood. 
And    in    a    moment    after,    wild    Li- 

niours, 
Rome  on  a  black  horse,  like  a  thun- 
der-cloud 
WTiose    skirts    are     loosen'd     by     the 

breaking  str)rni, 
Half    ridden    off   with   by    the    thin^ 

be  rode. 
And    all    in    passion    uttering    a    dry 

shriek, 
Dash'd  on  Geraint,  who  closed  with 

hiin,  and  bore 
Down    by    the    length    of    lance    and 

arm  beyond 
The  crupper,  and  so  left  him  stunn'd 

or  dead. 
And  overthrew  the  next  that  follow'd 

him. 
And   blindly   nish'd   on   all   the   rout 

behind. 
But  at  the  flash  and  motion  of  the 

man 
They   vanish'd    panic-stricken,    like   a 

shoal 
Of   darting   fish,    that   on  a   summer 

morn 
A  down    the   crystal   dvkes   at   Canie- 
lot 


Come  slipping  o'er  their  shadows  on 

the  sanii. 
Hut   it   a  man   who  stands  upon   the 

brink 
Hut    lift   a  shinin^;  hand   against    the 

sun. 
There  is  not  left  the  twinkle  of  a  fin 
Hetwixt    the    cress)     islets    white    in 

flower  ; 
So,  scared   bi.t   at  the  motion  of  the 

man, 
Med   all  tli<'   boon  coti-panions  of  the 

Farl, 
And     letr     I'im    l\ing    in     the    public 

w  .'v  ; 
So    vanish    friendships    only    made    in 

vv  ine. 


'I  hen      like      a     stormy      sunlight 

smiled   (jeraint. 
Who   saw    the   chargers    of   the    two 

that  fell 
Start    from    their    fallen    lords,    and 

wildly   fly, 
Mi\t    with    the    flyers.      "  Horse    and 

man,"  he  said, 
"  All    of    one    mind    and    all    right- 
honest    friends ! 
Not  a  hoof  left:  and   I   methinks  till 

now 
Was  honest  —  paid  with   horses  and 

with  arms; 
r    cannot   steal    or    plunder,    no    nor 

beg: 
And  so  what  say  ye,  shall   we  strip 

him  there 
■^'our   lover?   has  your   palfrey   heart 

enoi'gh 
To  hear  his  armor.'  shall  we  fast,  or 

dine? 
No? — then     do    thou,    bsing    right 

honest,  pray 
That  we  may  meet  the  horsemen  of 

Earl   Doorni, 
I  too  would  still  be  honest."     Thus 

he  said : 
And  sadly  ?:•  :ing  on  her  bridle-reins, 


246 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And    ansvviing    not    one   word,   she 
led   'he  way. 


Upon   her,   and   she   wept  beside   the 
way. 


But  as  a  man  to  whom  a  dreadful 

loss 
Falls  in  a  far  land  and  he  knows  it 

not. 
But   coming   back    he   learns   it,   and 

the  loss 
So  pains  him  that  he  sickens  nigh  to 

death ; 
So  fared  it  witli  Geraint,  who  being 

prick'd 
In    combat    with     the     follower    of 

Limours, 
Bled   underneath    his  armor  secretly, 
And  so  rode  on,  nor  to.  1   his  gentle 

wife 
What  ail'd   him,   hardly   knowing   it 

himself, 
Till  his  eye  darken'd  and  his  helmet 

wagg'd ; 
And    at    a   sudden    swerving   of    the 

road, 
Tho'    happily    down    on    a    bank    of 

grass, 
The    Prince,,  without   a   word,   from 

his  horse   fell. 

And    Enid    heard    the    clashing   of 

his  fall. 
Suddenly   came,    and    at    his   side   all 

pale 
Dismounting,     loosed     the     fastenings 

of  hi>  arms. 
Nor    let    her    tiue    hand    falter,    nor 

blue  eye 
Moisten,   till  she  had   liehted  on   i;.s 

wound. 
And  tearing  off  her  veil  of  faded  silk 
Had  bared  her   forehead   to  the  blis- 
tering sun, 
And   swathed    the   hurt   that   drain'd 

her  dear  lord's  life. 
Then   after  all   was  done   that  hand 

could   do, 
She  rested,  and  her  disolation  came 


And  many  past,  but  none  re- 
garded  her. 

For  in  that  realm  of  lawless  turbu- 
lence, 

A  woman  weeping  for  her  murder'd 
mate 

Was  cared  as  much  for  as  a  summer 
show  er : 

One  took  him  for  a  victim  of  FarL 
Doorm, 

Nor  dared  to  waste  a  perilous  pity 
on  him: 

Another  hurrying  past,  a  man-at- 
arms, 

Rode  on  a  mission  to  the  bandit 
Farl; 

Half  whistling  and  half  singing  a 
coarse  song, 

He  drove  the  dust  against  her  veil- 
less  eyes : 

Another,  flying  from  the  urath  of 
Doorm 

Hefore  an  ever-fancied  arrow,  irade 
The  long  way  smoke  beneath  him  in 
his  fear ; 

At  which  her  palfrey  whinnying 
lifted  heel, 

j\nd  scour'd  into  the  coppices  and 
\\as   lost, 

While  the  great  charger  stood, 
grieved   like  a  man. 

Lut  at  the  point  of  noon  the  huge 

Farl   Doorm, 
Broad-faced     with     under-fringe     of 

russet  beard, 
Bound    on    a    foray,    rolling   eyes   of 

prey, 
Came   riding  with   a  hundred   lances 

up; 
Bur  ere  he  came,  like  one  that  hails 

a  ship, 
Cried  out  w  ith  a  big  voice,  "  What, 

is  he  dead  ?  " 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 


247 


"  No,   no,   not  dead !  "   she   answcr'd 

in  all  haste. 
"  Would    some   of   )  our   kind    people 

take  him  up, 
And  bear  him  hence  out  of  this  cruel 

sun? 
Most  sure  am  I,  quite  sure,  he  is  not 

dead." 

Then  said  Earl  Doorm:     'Well, 

if  he  be  not  dead. 
Why  wail  ye  fo'  him  thus?  ye  seem 

a  child. 
And  be  he  dead,   I  count  you   for  a 

fool- 
Your  ua..ing  will  not  quicken  him: 

dead  or  not. 
Ye    mar    a    comely    face    with    idiot 

tear>. 
Ye:,  since  the  face  is  comely  —  some 

of  you, 
Here,  take  him  up,  and  bear  him  to 

our  hall: 
An  if  he  live,  we  will   have  him  of 

our  band ; 
And   if  he  die,  why  earth  has  earth 

enough 
To     hide     him.     See     ye     take     the 

charger,    too, 
A  noble  one." 

He  spake,  and  past  away, 
But  left  two  brawny  spearmen,  who 

advanced, 
Kach  growlinc;  like  a  dog,  when  his 

good  bone 
Seems  to  be  pluck 'd  at  by  the  village 

boys 
Who  love  to  vex  him  eating,  and  >,e 

fears 
To   lose  his   bone,   and   lays  his   foot 

upon   it, 
Cinawing     and      growling:     so     the 

ruffians   growl'd, 
Fearing   to   lose,   and    all    for   a   dead 

man, 
1  heir     chance     of     booty     froni     the 

morning's  raid. 


Yet  raised  and  laid  him  on  a  litter- 
bier. 
Such    as    they    brought    upon    their 

forays  out 
For   those   that   might   be   wounded ; 

laid  him  on  it 
All  in  the  hollow  of  his  shield,  and 

took 
And  bore  him  to  the  naked  hall  of 

Doorm, 
(His   gentle   charger    following   him 

unled) 
And  cast  him  and  the  bier  in  which 

he  lay 
Down  on  an  oaken  settle  in  the  hall, 
And   then   departed,   hot   in   haste   to 

join 
Their  luckier  mates,  but  growling  as 

before, 
And  cursing  their  lost  time,  and  the 

dead  man. 
And   their  own   Earl,  and   their  own 

souls,  and  her 
They  might  as  well  have  blest  her: 

she  was  deaf 
To  blessing  or  to  cursing  save  from 
one. 

So  for  long  hours  sat  Enid  by  her 

lord. 
There  in  the  naked  hall,  propping  his 

head, 
And  chafing  his  pale  hands,  and  call- 
ing to  him. 
Till  at  the  last  he  waken'd  from  his 

swoon. 
And   found  his  own  dear  bride  pro;-- 

ping  his  head, 
And    chafing    his    faint    hands,    and 

calling  to  him  ; 
And   felt  the  warm   tears   falling  on 

his  face ; 
And    said    to    his    own    heart,    "  She 

weeps   for   me  :  " 
And  yet  lay  still,  and  feign'd  himself 

as  dead, 
That    he    might    prove    her    to    the 

uttermost. 


248 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And    say    to    his    own    heart,    "  She  And    rising  on   the  sudden    he   said, 

weeps  for  nie."  "  tat. 

1  never  yet  beheld  a  thing  so  pale. 

But   in    the    fallinK   afternoon    re-  God's  curse,  it  makes  me  mad  to  see 

turn'd  you  weep. 

The  huge  Earl  Doom,  with  plunder  Eat!     Look     yourself.     Good      luck 

to  the  hall.  had  your  good  man, 

His    lusty     spearmen     foUow'd     him  For    were    I    dead   who   is    it    would 

with  noise:  weep   for  me? 

Each  hurling  ('own  a  heap  of  things  Sweet  lady,  never  since  1  first  dr-v 

that  rang  breath 

Against  the  pavement,  cast  his  lance  Have  I  beheld  a  lily  like  yourself. 

aside,  And    so    there    lived    some    color    in 

And  dotf'd  his  helm:  and  then  there  your  cheek, 

fluttcr'd  in.  There  is  not  one  among  my  gentle- 

Half-bold,    half-frightened,    with    di-  women 

lated  ejfs.  Were  fit  to  wear  your  slipper  for  a 

A   tribe  of  women,   dress'd   in   many  glove. 

hues,  But  listen  to  me,  and  by  me  be  ruled, 

And    mingled    with    the    spearmen:  And  I  will  do  the  thing  1  have  not 

and  Karl  Uoorm  done, 

Struck    with    a    knife's    haft    ha'd  For  ye  shall  share  my  earldom  with 

against  the  board,  me,  j-.irl) 

And  call'd  for  flesh  and  wine  to  feed  And  ve  wul  live  like  two  birds  in 

his  spears.  one  nest. 

And  men  brought  in  whole  hogs  and  And  I  will  fetch  you  forage  from  all 

quarter  beeves,  fields. 

And  all  the  hall  uas  dim  with  steam  For    I    compel    all    creatures    to    my 

of  flesh:  will." 
And    none    spake   word,    but    al:    sat 


down  at  once. 
And   ate  with   tumult   in    the   naked 

hall. 
Feeding   like    horses   when   you    hear 

them  feed ; 
Till   Enid  shrank   far  back  into  her- 
self, 
To  shun  the  wild  ways  of  the  lasvless 

tribe. 
But  when  Earl  Doorm  had  eaten  all 

he  would. 
He    roU'd    his   eyes    a.bout    the    hall, 

and  found 
A  damsel  drooping  in  a  Cdrner  of  it. 


He   spoke:    the    brawny   spearman 

iet  his  cheek 
Bulge    with    the    unswai'm. 'd    piece, 

and  turning  stared; 
While    some,    whose    souls    the    old 

serpent  long  had  drawn 
Down,    as    the   worm    draws    in    the 

\vither'd  leaf 
And    makes   it   earth,   hiss'd    each   at 

other's  ear 
What     shall     not     he     reco'ded  — 

women  they. 
Women,    c    what    had    been    ',=jse 

gracious  things, 


Then   he   remember'd   her,   and    how  But    now    desired    the    humbling    of 

she  wept;  their  best, 

And  out  of  her  there  came  a  power  "^'ea,   would   have   help'd  him   to   it: 

upon  him;  a"d  all  at  once 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 


They  hated  her,  who  took  no  thought 
of  them, 

But  answer'd  in  low  voice,  her  meek 
head  yet 

Drooping,  "  I  pray  you  of  your  cour- 
tesy. 

He  being  as  he  is,  to  let  me  be." 

She  spake  so  low  he  hardly  heard 
her  speak, 

But  like  a  mighty  patron,  satisfied 

With  what  himself  had  done  so  gra- 
ciously. 

Assumed  that  she  had  thank'd  him, 
adding,    "  Yea, 

Eat  and  be  glad,  for  I  account  you 
mine." 

She  answer'd  meekly,  "  i.ow 
should  I  be  glad 

Henceforth  in  all  the  world  at  any- 
thing, 

Until  my  lord  arise  and  look  Ui'on 
me?  " 

Here  the  huge  Earl  cried  out  upon 
her  talk, 

As  all  but  empty  heart  and  weari- 
ness 

And  sickly  nothing;  suddenly  seized 
on  her. 

And  bare  her  by  main  violence  to  the 
board, 

And  thrust  the  dish  before  her,  cry- 
ing, "  Eat.  ' 

"No,    no,"    said    Enid,    vext,    "I 

will  not  eat 
Till  yonder  man  upon  the  bier  arise, 
And  eat  with  me."     "  Drink,  then," 

he  answer'd.     "  Herel  " 
(And   fiil'd   a   horn   with    wine   and 

held  it  t(,  her), 
"Lo!    I,   .nyself,    when    flush'd   with 

figK.  or  hot, 
God's    .urse,    with    anger  — often    I 

aijself, 


249 

Before  I   well  have  drunken,   scaice 

can  eat: 
Drink,  therefore,  and   the  wine  will 

change  your  will." 

"  Not  so,"  she  cried,  "  by  Heaven, 

1  will  not  drink 
Till  my  dear  lord  arise  and   bid  me 

do  it. 
And  drink  with  me ;  and  if  he  rise  no 

more, 
I  will  not  look  at  wine  until  I  die." 

At  this  he  turn'd  all  red  and  paced 
his  hall. 
Now    gnaw'd    his    under,    now    his 

upper  lip. 
And  comipg  up  close  to  her,  said  at 
last: 
Girl,   for  I  see  ye  scorn  my  cour- 
tesies. 

Take  warning:  yonder  man  is  surely 
dead  ; 

And    I   compel   all    creatures   to   my 
will. 

Not  eat  nor  drink  ?     And  wherefore 

wail   for  one. 
Who   put   your   beauty   to  this   flout 

and  scorn 
By  dres<  ig  it  in  rags?     Amazed  am 

Beholding   how   ye    butt   against    my 

wish. 
That  I   forbear  you   thus:  cross  me 

no  more. 
At   least   put   of!   to  please   me   this 

poor  gown. 
This  silken  rag,  this  beggar-woman's 

weed: 

I  love  that  beauty  should  go  beauti- 
fully: 

For    see    ye    not    my    gentlewomen 
here. 

How  gay,  how  suited  to  the  house  of 
one 

Who    loves    that    beauty    should    eo 
beautifully? 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


250 

Rise  therefore;  robe  yourself  in  this: 
obey." 

He  spoke,  and  one  among  his  gen- 

tle-womin 
Display 'd    a  splendid   silk  of   foreign 

loom, 
Where  like  a  .hoaling  sea  the  lovely 

blue 
Play'd  into  green,  and  thicker  down 

the  front 
With    jewels    than    the    sward    with 

drops  of  dew, 
When  all  night   long  a  cloud  clings 

to  the  hill, 
And    with    the    dawn    ascending   lets 

the  day 
Strike    where    it    clung:    so    thickly 
shone  the  gems. 

But  Enid  answer'd,  harder  to  be 
moved 

Than  hardest  tyrants  in  their  day  of 
power. 

With  lifelong  injuries  burning  un- 
avenged, 

And  now  their  hour  hiis  come;  and 
Knid  said  : 

"  In  this  poor  ^own  my  dear  lord 
found   me   first. 
And  loved  me  serving  in  my  father  s 

hall: 
In   this   poor   gown   I    rode  with  him 

to  court, 
And    there    the    Queen    array  d    me 

like  the  sun: 
In  this  poor  gown  he  bade  me  clothe 

mvself, 
Wheri  now  we  rode  upon  this  tatal 

quest 
Of   honor,   where    no   honor   can    be 

gain'd : 
And   this  poor  gown   I  will  not  cast 

aside 
Until  himself  arise  a  livlnf;  man, 
And   bid   me  cast   it.     I   have   griefs 
enough ; 


Pray  you  be  gentle,  pray  you  let  me 
be: 

I  never  loved,  can  never  lovr  but 
him: 

Yea,  God,  I  . .  .  you  of  your  gen- 
tleness, „ 

He  being  as  he  is,  to  let  mt  je. 

Then    strode    the    brute    Earl    up 

j.nd  dou  :i  his  .    11, 
And    took   his      isset   beard   between 

his  tc<  h; 
Last,  coming  up  quite  close,   and     i 

hi-    nood 
Crying,      I  count  it     f  no  more  avail, 
Dame,    to    be        ntle    tha..    ungentle 

with  you ;  .         •  . 

Take    my    salute,"    unknightly    with 

tiat  hand, 
Howeve-   lightly,  smote  her  on   the 

chctt. 

Then  Enid,  in  her  utter  helpless- 
ness, 

And  since  she  thought,  "  He  had  not 
dared   to  do  it. 

Except  he  surely  knew  my  lord  was 
d'ad," 

Sent  forth  a  sudden  sharp  and  bitter 

cry. 

As  of  a  wild  thing  taken  i     a  trap,    _ 
Which  sees  the  trapper  coming  thro 
the  wood. 

This  heard  Geraint,  and  grasping 

at  his  sword, 
(It    lay    beside    him    in    the    hollow 

shield), 
Made  but  a  single  bound,  and  with 

a  sweep  of  it 
Shore    thro'    the   swarthy    neck,    and 

like  a  ball 
The    russet-bearded    head    roll'd    on 

the  door. 
So    died    Earl    Doorm    by    him    he 

counted    dead. 
And  all  the  men  and  women  in  the 

hall 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 


251 


Rose  when  they  saw  the  dead   man 

rise,  and  fled 
Yelling   as   from    a  specter,   and    the 

two 
Were    left    alone    together,    and    he 

said: 

'  Enid,    I    have    used    you    worse 
than   that  dead  man ; 

Done    you    more    wrong:    we    both 
have  undergone 

That    trouble    which    has    left    me 
thrice  your  own : 

Henceforward  I  will  rather  die  than 
douht. 

And  here  I  lay  this  penance  on  my- 
self. 

Not,   the'  mine  own  ears  heard  you 
yestermorn  — 

You     thought    me    sleeping,     but     I 
heard  you  say, 

I   heard  you   say,   that  you   were   no 
crue  wife: 

I  swear  I  will  not  ask  your  meaning 
in  it: 

I    do    believe   yourself   against   your- 
self. 

And    V,  ill    henceforward    rather    die 
than  doubt." 

And  Enid  could  not  say  one  ten- 
der word, 

She  felt  30  blunt  and  stupid  at  the 
heart: 

She  only  pray'd  him,  "  Fly,  they  will 
return 

And    slay   you;    fly,   your   charger   is 
without, 

My    palfrey    lost."     "Then,    Enid, 
shall  you   ride 

Behind     me."     "Yea,"    said     Enid, 
"  let  us  go." 

And    moving    out    they     found    the 
stately  horse, 

Who  now  no  n  ire  a  vassal   to  the 
thief, 

But  free  to  stretch  his  limbs  in  law- 
ful fight, 


Neigh 'd    with    all    gladness    as    they 

came,  and  stoop'd 
With  a  low  whinny  toward  the  pair: 

and  she 
Kiss'd  the  white  star  upon  his  noble 

front. 
Glad    also;    then    Geraint    upon    the 

horse 
Mounted,   and    reach'd    a   hand,   and 

on  his  foot 
She    set    her    oivn    and    climb'd;    he 

turn'd  his  face 
And    kiss'd    her    t limbing,    and    she 

cast  her  arms 
About    him,   and    at   once   they    lode 

away. 

And  never  yet,  since  high  in  Para- 
disc 
O'er   the   four   rivers   the   first   roses 

blew, 
Came    purer    pleasure     unto    mortal 

kind 
Than    lived    thrc'   her,    who   In    that 

perilous  hour 
Put  hand   to   hand   beneath   her  hus- 
band's heart, 
And  felt  him  hers  again:  she  did  not 

weep. 
But  o'er  her  meek  eyes  came  a  happy 

mist 
Like    that   which    kept    the   heart   of 

Eden   grern 
Before  the  useful  trouble  of  tiie  rain : 
Yet  not  so  misty  were  her  meek  blue 

eyes 
As   not    to  see   before   them   on    the 

path. 
Right   in   the  gateway  of  the   bandit 

hold, 
A  knight  of  Arthur's  court,  who  laid 

his  lance 
In  rest,  and  made  as  if  to  fall  upon 

him. 
Then,   fearing  for  his  hurt  and   loss 

of  blood, 
Liiie,  with  her  mind  all  full  of  what 
had  chanced. 


252 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Shrirk'd  t'l  the  stran^iir,  "  Slay  not  a 

ilcaJ  mail  I 
"  The     voice     of     Enid,"     said     the 

kmi^ht :  but  she, 
Behoidin;:    it    was    Kdyrn,    son    of 

Nudd, 
Was  moved  so  much  the  more,  and 

shrii'ic'd  ai;ain, 
"  O  cousin,   slay  not   him   who  gave 

you   life." 
And  f.dyrn  moving  frankly   forward 

spake : 
"  My  lord  Geraint,  I  greet  you  with 

all  love; 
I    took   you   for   a   bandit    knight   of 

Doorm ; 
And    fear    not,    Knid,    I    should    fall 

upon  him, 
Who   love   you,    Prince,    with   some- 
thing of  the  love 
Wherewith  «e  love  the  Heaven  that 

chastens  us. 
For  once  when  I  was  up  so  high  in 

pride 
That  I   was  halfway  down  the  slope 

to   }Iell, 
By  overthrowing  me  you    threw   me 

higher. 
Now,    made    a    knight    of    Artimr's 

Table   Round, 
And  since  I  knew  this  Earl,  when  I 

myself 
Was    half    a  bandit    in    my    lawless 

hour, 
I  conic  the  mouthpiece  of  our  King 

to  Doorm 
(The  King  is  close  behind  nip)   bid- 
ding him 
Disband   hiinself,   and  scatter  all  his 

powers. 
Submit,    and    hear    the   judgment    of 

the  is.ii  ;: 


"He   hears    the   judgment   of   the 
King  of  kings," 
Cried  the  wan  Prince;  "and  lo,  the 
powers  of  Doorm 


Arc  scattcr'd,"  and  he  pointed  to  the 

tield, 
Where,    huddled    here   and    tlieio   on 

nmutid  :uid  kiUiil, 
Were   men   and   women   staring   and 

aghast, 
Wliih    some   yet    tied ;    and    ihen    he 

plainlier   told 
How  the  huge  Earl  lav  slain  within 

his  hall. 
But  when   tlie  knight  besought   him, 

"  Follow  me, 
Prince,    to    the    camp,    ?nd    in    the 

King's  own  ear 
Speak    what    has  chanced;   ye   surely 

have  endured 
Strange    chancs    here    alone;"    that 

other  flush  (1, 
And    hung   his    head,    and    halted    ir. 

reply, 
Fearing  the  mild  face  of  the  blame- 
less King, 
And    after    madness    acted    question 

ask'd : 
Till   Edyrn  crying,   "  U  ye   \\ill   not 

To   Arthur,   then   will   Arthur  come 

to  you," 
"  Enough,"  he  said,  "  I  follow,"  and 

they  ucnt. 
But    Enid    in    their    going    had    two 

fears, 
t)ne  from  the  bandit  scatter'd  in  the 

held. 
And   one   from    Edyrn.     Every    now 

and  then. 
When    Edyrn    rein'd    his   charger    at 

her  side, 
She    shrank    a    little.     In    a    hollow 

land. 
From    which    old    fires   have   broken, 

men  may  fear 
Fresh    fire    and    ruin.     He,    perceiv- 
ing, said: 


"  Fair   and   dear  cousin,   you    that 
most   had   cause 


GKRAINT  AND  ENID 


253 


1  o   fear   me,    fear   no   longer,    I    ani 

changed. 
Yourself     were    first    tin-     blameless 

cause  to  make 
My   nature's  pnciffui  sparkle   in   the 

blood 
Ureak    into   furious    tlaiiie;   being   re- 

pulM.-d 
H)'    ^  iiiol    and    yourself,    I    schemed 

and   \\  r()u;ilit 
Until   I   ovfrtiirn'd   him;  then   set  up 
(  With  one  main  purpose  ever  at  my 

licart ) 
.\I)   haughty  jousts,  and  took  a  para- 
mour ; 
Did    her    mock-honor    as    the    fairest 

fair, 
And,   toppling  over  all   antagonism, 
So    wax'il    in    pride,    that    I    believed 

myself 
I  nc(jnqucrable,    for   I   was  well-nijjh 

mad : 
And,    but    for   my   main    purpose    in 

these  jousts, 
I     should     have    slain    your     father, 

seizeil    yourself. 
I    lived    in    hope    that    sometime    you 

would   come 
To   these   my   lists   wi'h   l..m    whom 

best  you  loved  ; 
And    there,    poor   cousin,    with    your 

meek  blue  eyes, 
The   truest   eyes   that   ever   answer'd 

Heaven, 
Ueliold  me  overturn  and  trample  on 

him. 
Then,    had    you    cried,    or    knelt,    or 

pray'd  to  me, 
I    should    not    less    have    klll'd    him. 

And  you  came, — 
But  once  you  came, —  and  with  your 

own   true  eyes 
Beheld  the  man  you  loved   (I  speak 

as  one 
Speaks  of  a  service  done  him)    over- 
throw 
My    proud     self,     and    my    pjrpose 
three  years  old. 


And  set  his  foot  upon  me,  and  ^ive 

me  life. 
1  here  was  1  broken  ilown  ;  there  «  as 

I   saved  : 
rho'      thence      1      rode     all-shamed, 

hating  the   life 
He  gave  me,  meaning  to  be  rid  of  it. 
And  all   the  penanie   the  Queen   laid 

upon  me 
Was   but   to   rest   awhile   within   her 

court ; 
Where  first  as  sullen  as  a  beast  new- 
caged. 
And    waiting    to    be    treated    like    a 

wolf. 
Because     I     knew    my     deeds     were 

kii(;un,   I   found. 
Instead     of    scornful     pity    or    pure 

scorn, 
Such  fine  reserve  and  noble  reticence, 
Manners  so  kind,  )et  stately,  such  a 

grace 
Of  tendcrest  courtesy,  that   I   began 
J  o   glaiioe   behi[:d   me   at   my   former 

life. 
And  find  that  it  liad  been  the  wolf's 

indeed  ; 
And   oft    I    talk'd    with    Dubric,    the 

high  saint. 
Who,  with  mild  hear  of  holy  oratory, 
Subdued   me  s<)mewhat   to   that   gen- 
tleness. 
Which,    whi-n    it    weds    with    man- 
hood,  makes  a  man. 
And  you  were  often  there  about  the 

Queen, 
But  saw  me  not,  or  mark'd  not  if  you 

saw; 
Nor  did  I  care  or  dare  to  speak  with 

you, 
But    kept    myself    aloof    till    I    was 

changed : 
And  fea-    not    cousin ;  I  am  changed 
indeed." 

He    spoke,    and    Enid    easily    be- 
lieved, 
Like  sir.-ple  noble  natures,  credulous 


254 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Of  what  tlu'y  loiij;  for,  i;i)od  in  friend 

or  foe, 
Tlicre  most  in  those  who  moit  have 

done  them  ill. 
And  whcti  they  rcadi'd  the  camp  the 

Kinn  himself 
Advanced  Ui  gtfft  them,  and  behold- 

int;  her 
Tho'   pale,  yet   happy,   ask'd   her  not 

a  word, 
But   went   apart  with    Kdyrn,   whom 

he  held 
In  converse  for  a  little,  and  rcturn'd, 
And,  gravely  smiling;,  lifted  her  from 

horse. 
And    kiss'd    her    with    all    pureness, 

brotherlike, 
And   show'd    an    empty    tent   allotted 

her, 
And    glancing   for   a   minute,   till   he 

saw  her 
Pass    into    it,    turn'd    to    the    Prince, 

and  said: 

"  Prince,  when  of  late  ye  nray'd 
me  fci   my  leave 

To  move  ■)  your  own  land,  a:.u 
there  defend 

Your  marches,  I  was  prick'd  with 
some  reproof, 

As  one  that  let  foul  wrong  stagnate 
and  be. 

By  having  lookM  too  much  thro' 
alien  eyes, 

And  wrought  too  long  with  dele- 
gated   hands. 

Not  used  mine  ou  n :  but  now  be- 
hold me  come 

To  cleanse  this  common  sewer  of  all 
my   realm. 

With  r.ilyrn  and  with  others:  have 
ye  look'd 

At  Edyrn  ?  have  ye  seen  how  nobly 
chan;^ed? 

This  work  of  his  is  great  and  won- 
derful. 

His  very  face  with  change  of  heart 
is  changed. 


The    world    will    nut    believe    a    man 

repents: 
And    this    wise    world    of    ours    is 

mainly   right. 
Full   seldom   doth   a  man    repent,   or 

use 
Both    grace    and    will    to    pick    the 

vicious  quitch 
Of  blood  aiid  custom  wholly  out  of 

him, 
And  make  all  clean,  and  plant  himself 

afresh. 
Kdyrn   has   done   it,   weeding  all   his 

heart 
7\s  I  will  weed  this  land  before  I  go. 
1,  therefore,  made  him  of  our  Table 

Round, 
Not    rashly,    but    have    proved    him 

everyway 
One  of  our  noblist,  our  most  valor- 
ous. 
Sanest  and  most  obedient:  and  indeed 
This  work  of   Edyrn   wrought  upon 

himself 
After  a  life  of  violence,  seems  to  me 
A  thousand-fold  more  great  and  won- 
derful 
T  han  if  some  knight  of  mine,  risking 

his  life, 
My   subject   with   my   subjects   under 

him. 
Should  make  an  onslaught  single  on  a 

realm 
Of  robbers,  tho'  he  slew  them  one  by 

one. 
And  were   himself  nigh  wounded   to 

the  death." 

So  spake  the  King;  low  bow'd  the 
Prince,  and  felt 

Hi  work  was  neither  great  nor  won- 
derful. 

And  past  to  Enid's  tent;  and  thither 
came 

The  King's  o  vn  leech  fo  look  into 
his  hurt; 

And  P'nid  tended  on  him  there;  and 
there 


GERAINT  AND  ENID 


255 


Her  constant  motion  round  him,  and 

the  brfath 
Of  hrr  swtc:  tendance  hovering  over 

him, 
Kill'd    all    the    genial    courses   of   his 

blood 
With    deeper    and    with    ever   deeper 

love 
As  the  south-v\est  that  blowing  Bala 

lake 
Fills  all  the  sacred  Dec.     So  past  the 

days. 

Hut   while  Geraint   lay  healing  of 
his  hurt. 
The  blameless  King  went  forth  and 

cast  his  eyes 
On  each  of  all  whom  Uther  left  in 

charge 
I>ong  since,   to  guard   the  justice  of 

the  King: 
He  look'd  and   found  them  wanting; 

and  as  now 
Men    weed    the   white   horse   on    the 

Herkshire  hills 
To    keep    him    bright    and    clean    as 

heretofore, 
He  rooted  out  the  slothful  officer 
Or  guilty,  which  far  bribe  had  wink'd 

at  wrong, 
And  in  their  chairs  set  up  a  stronger 

race 
With   hearts  and   hands,   and   sent  a 

thousand  men 
To  till  the  wastes,  and  moving  every- 
where 
Clear'd  the  dark  places  and  let  in  the 

law. 
And     broke    the    bandit    holds    and 
cleansed   the  land. 

Thi.i,    when    Geraint    was    whole 
again,  they  past 
^^';th  Arthur  to  Caerleon  upon  Usk. 
There    the    great    Queen    once    more 
embraced  her  friend, 


And  clothed  her  in  apparel  tike  the 

day. 
And    tho'   Geraint   could    never   take 

agam 
I  hat    comfort    from    their    converse 

which  he  took 
Before    the    Queen's    fair    name    was 

breathed  upon, 
He  rested   well  content  that  all  was 

well. 
Thence  after  tarrying  for  a  space  they 

rode. 
And  fifty  knights  rode  with  them  to 

the  shores 
Of  Severn,  and  they  past  to  their  own 

land 
And  there  he  kept  the  justice  of  the 

King 
So    vigorously    yet    mildly,     that    all 

hearts 
Applauded,   and   the  spiteful  whisper 

died  : 
And    being    ever     foremost     in     the 

chase, 
And    victor   at    the   tilt    and    tourna- 
ment, 
They  call'd  him  the  great  Prince  and 

man   of   men. 
But  Enid,  whom  her  ladies  loved  to 

call 
Enid    the    Fair,    a    grateful     people 

named 
Enid    the   Good;   and    in    their   halls 

arose 
The  cry  of  children,  Enids  and  Ger- 

aints 
Of  times  to  be;  nor  did  he  doubt  her 

more, 
But    rested     in     her    fealty,     till    he 

crown'd 
A  happy  life  with  a  fair  death,  and 

fell 
Against  the  heathen  of  the  Northern 

Sea 
In  battle,  fighting  for  the  blameless 
King. 


2^6 


IDYLLS  OF  THL  KL\(] 


BALIN  AND  HALAN 


Pei.LAM,  the  Kin^:,  uho  hrid  ami 
lost   with   Lot 

In  that  hrst  war,  ami  had  his  realm 
restored 

Hut   render'd   tributary,   tail'il  "t   late 

To  send  hi^  tribute,  wherefore  Ar- 
thur 1     I'd 

His  treasurer,  one  of  niany  years,  and 

spake, 
"  Cio    thou    with    him    and    him    and 
bring  it  to  us. 

Lest  we  should  .et  one  truer  on  his 
throne. 

Man's  word   is  God   in   man." 

His   Haron   said 
"We   CO  hut   harlcen:   there   be   two 

strangle  knijjhts 
\Vhr  sit  near  Canielut  at  a  fountaiti 

side, 
A  mile  h^'neath  the  forest,  cliallent;iii); 
And  overthrowing  every   knight  who 

comes. 
Wilt   thou   I   undertake  tiiem   as  we 

pass. 
And  send  them  to  thee?" 

Arthur  laugh'd  upon  him. 

"  Old  friend,  too  oKl  to  be  so  yoiing, 
depart, 

Delay  not  thou  lor  ought,  but  let 
them  sit, 

Until  they  find  a  lustier  than  them- 
selves." 

So  these  departed.     Early,  one  fair 

dawn. 
The  light-'ving'd  spirit  of  his  youth 

rcturn'd 
On  Arthur's  heart;  he  arm'd  himself 

and  went. 
So  coming  to  the  fountain-side  beheld 
Dalin  and   Balan  sittint:  statuclikc. 
Brethren,  to  right  and  left  the  spring, 

that  down. 


From  underneath  a  plume  of  lady 
tern. 

Sang,  and  the  san  J  danced  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it. 

And  on  the  light  of  Ha'  Balin's 
horse 

\Va.s  fast  beside  an  alder,  on  the  left 

( )f  B.ilan  Baian's  near  a  poplartree. 

"  Fair  Sirs,"  said  .Arthur,  "  where- 
fore sit  >e  here  ?  " 

Balin  and  Balan  answer'd,  "  F"or 
the  sake 

Of  glorv  ;  we  be  mightier  men  than 
all' 

In  Arthur's  court;  that  also  have  we 
proved  ; 

l-or  whatsoever  knight  against  us 
came 

Or  I  or  he  have  ea^il^    c)verthrown." 

"I,  too,"  ?  (ill  Arthur,  ".am  of 
Arthur  ,   hall, 

Hut  rather  proven  in  his  I'aynim  wars 

Than  famous  jousts;  but  see,  or 
proven  or  not. 

Whether  me  likewise  ye  can  over- 
throw." 

And  Arthur  lightly  smote  the  breth- 
ren down, 

And  lightly  so  return'd,  and  no  man 
knew. 

Tlun    Balin   rose,   and   Balan,  and 

beside 
The    caroling    water    set    themselves 

again. 
And  spake  no  word  until  the  shadow 

turn'd ; 
When    from    the    fringe    of    coppice 

round  them   burst 
A    spangled    pursuivant,    and    cr}ing 

"  Sirs, 
Rise,    follow!  ye   be  sent   for   by   the 

King," 
They   follow'd ;  whom   when  Arthur 

seeing  .ask'd: 
"Tell    me   your   names;  why  sat   ye 

by  the   well  ?  " 
Balin  the  stillness  of  a  minute  broke 


BALIX  AND  HALAN 


^57 


Saying,    "An    unnirl')<!i()ii>,    name    to 
thcf, 

Halin,    '  the    Savage '— that    addition 
thinr  — 

My  brother  and  ni)   tutrfr,  this  man 

here, 
Balan.     I     smote     upon     the     naked 

sLull 
A    til    ill   of   thine    in    open    iiail,    my 

hand 
Was  gauntletcd,  half  slew  him ;  for  I 

heard 
He  had   spoken   evil   of  nir;   thy  just 

w  rath 
Sent    me    a    three-yc;.rs'    exile    from 

tliine  eye 
I    hav"    not    lived    my    life    dcliuht- 

soniely : 
For   I    that   did   that    violence   to   thy 

thrall, 
Had  often  wrougli'  some  fury  on  mv- 

self, 
Saving  for  Balan:   those   three   king- 
less  years 
Have    past  —  were    wormwood-bitter 

to  nic.     King, 
Methought  that  if  we  sat  beside  the 

well, 
And    hurl'd   to   ground    what   knight 

soever  spiirr'd 
Against    us,    thou    uould'st    take    me 

gladlier  back, 
And    make,   as   ten-times   worthier   to 

be  thine 
Than    twenty    Halins,    Balan    knight. 

I   ha\e  said. 
Not  so  — not  all.     A  man  of  thine 

to-day 
Abash'd     us     both,     and     brake     my 

boast.     Thy  will  ?  " 
Said  Arthur,  "  Thou  hast  ever  spoken 

truth; 
I  hy   too   fierce   manhood    would   not 

let  thee  lie. 
Rise,    my   true    knight.     As   children 

learn,  be  thou 
Wiser    for    falling!    walk    with    me, 
and  move 


I'o  music  with  thine  Order  and  the 

King. 
Thy  cliair,   a  grief   to  all   the   breth- 

'•  >',  ■>lands 
\'acam,    but     thou    retake    it,    mine 

again!  " 

Thereafter,  when  Sir  Balin  enter'd 
hall, 

1  he  Lost  one  Found  was  greeted  m 
in   Heaven 

With  joy   that   blazed  itself  in  wood- 
land  wealth 

( )f    leaf,    and    gayest    garlandage    of 
Howers, 

Along     the     walls     and     down     the 
board  ;   they  sat, 

And  cup  clash'd  cup;  they  drank  and 
someone   sing. 

Sweet-voiced,    a    song    of    welcome, 
w  hereupon 

1  heir     common     shout     in     chorus, 
mounting,  made 

fhnse  b.inncrs  of  twelve  battles  over- 
head 

Stir,    as    they    stirr'd    of    old,    when 
Arthur's  host 

Proclaim'd   him   Victor,  and   tlie  day 
uas  won. 

Then  Balan  added  to  their  Older 

lived 
A  wealthier  life  than  heretofore  with 

these 
And    Balin,    till    their   embassage    re- 

turn'd. 

"  Sir  King,"   they  brought   report, 

"  we  hardly   found. 
So    bush'd    about    it    is    with    ghxim, 

the  hall 
Of  him  to  whom  ye  sent  us,  Pcllam, 

once 
A    Christless    foe    of    thine    as    ever 

dash'd 
Horse  agiinst  horse;  but  seeing  that 

thy  realm 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  und  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2 


!.o   ^^  m 


I.I 


136 


12.5 
[12.2 

?    "^     llllffi 

nil!  1.8 


1.25 


1.4 


1.6 


^     APPLIED  IIVHGE     Inc 


-'-3   ta5t    Wa  r.    'i'feel 
mester.    Ne«    f^rk 

^6)  ■*82  -  0300  -  Phor-' 
'6)  288-  5989  -  Fo. 


Z58 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Hath     prosper'd     in     the     name     of 

Christ,  the  King 
Took,     as     in     rival    heat,     to    holy 

things; 
And    finds    himself    descended    from 

the  Saint 
Arimathsan  Joseph;  hirn  who  first 
Brought    the   great   faith    to    Britain 

over  seas; 
He  boasts  iiis  life  as  purer  than  thine 

own ; 
Eats   scarce  enow    to   keep   his   r"'se 

abeat ; 
Hath  push'd  aside  iiis  faithful  wife, 

nor  lets 
Or    dame    or    damsel    enter    at    his 

gates 
Lest    he    should    be    polluted.      Ihis 

pray  King 
Show'd    us    a    shrine    wherein    were 

wonders  —  yea  — 
Rich    arks    with    priceless    bones    of 

martyrdom, 
Thorns  of  the  crown  and  shivers  of 

the  cross, 
And    therewithal    (for   thus   he   told 

us)    brought 
By    holy    Joseph    hither,    that    same 

spear 
Wherewith    the    Roman    pierced    the 

side  of  Christ. 
He    much    amazed    us;    after,    when 

we  sought 
The  tribute,  ansvver'd,  '  1  have  quite 

foregone 
All   matters  of   this  world:   Garlon, 

mine  heir, 
Of  him  demand  it,'  which  this  Ciar- 

lon  gave 
With  much  ado,  railing  at  thine  and 
thee. 


But  when   we   left,   in   those   deep 

woods  we  found 
A     knight     of     thine     spear-stricken 

from  behind. 
Dead,   whom  wc  buried;  m.ore  than 

one  of  us 


Cried   out   on   Garlon,   but   a   wood- 
man there 
Reported     of     some    demon     in     thv 

woods 
Was  once  a  man,  who  driven  by  evil 

tongues 
From    all    his    fellows,    lived    alone, 

and  came 
To   learn   black  magic,   and    to   hate 

his  kind 
With  such  a  hate,  that  when  he  died, 

his  soul 
Became  a  Fiend,  which,  as  the  man 

in  life 
Was   wounded   by   blind    tongues   he 

saw  not  whence, 
Strikes     from    behind.     This    wood- 
man show'd  the  cave 
From  which   he  sallies,  and  wherein 

he  dwelt. 
We  saw  the  hoof-print  of  a  horse,  no 
more." 


Then  Arthur,  "  Let  who  goes  be- 
fore me,  see 
He    do   not    fail   behind    me:    foully 

slain 
And  villainously!  who  will  hunt  for 

me  „ 

This   demon    of   the   woods?        Said 

Balan,  "1!" 
So  claim'd  tlie  quest  and   rode  away, 

but  first, 
Embracing       Balin,       "Good,       my 

brother,  hear! 
Let  not   thy  moods  prevail,   when   I 

am  gone 
Who  used   to   lay   them!   hold   them 

outer  fiends. 
Who  leap  at  thee  to  tear  thee;  shake 

them  aside, 
Dreams  ruling  when  wit  sleeps!  yea, 

but  to  dream 
That  any  of  these  would  wrong  thee, 

wrongs  thyself. 
Witness      their      flowery      welcome. 
Bound  are  they 


BALIN  AND  BALAN  259 

To   speak    no   evil.     Truly   safe    for  Hath  hardly  scaled  with  help  a  hun- 

fears,  Jred  feet 

My  fears  for  thee,  so  rich  a  fellow-  Up  from  the  base:  so  Balin  marvcl- 

ship  ing  ^,ft 

Would  make  me  wholly  blest:  thou  How      far      beyond      him      Lancelot 

one  of  them,  secm'd  to  move, 

Be   one   mdeed :   consider   them,   and  Groan'd,  and  at  times  would  mutter, 

TU  ■    u      •       •      .    •  ■       ,  "  '^^^^'^  ^'^  K'^'''' 

Iheir  bearing  m  their  common  bond  Born  with   the  blood,  not   lea.nable 

of  love,  divine, 

No  more  of  hatred   than   in   Heaven  B  vnnd     my     reach.     Well     had     I 
. .      'tsf'f.  foui<hten  —  well  — 

No  moreof  jealousy   than   in   Para-  In   those  fierce  wars,  struck  hard — 


disc." 

So  Balan  warn'd,  and  went;  Halin 

remain 'd : 
Who  —  for    but    three    brief    moons 

had  glanced  auay 
From    being    knighted    till    he   smote 

the  thrall, 
And    faded    from    the    presence    into 

years 
Of  exile  —  now   would   strictlier  set 

himself 
To    learn    what    Artliur    meant    by 

courtesy. 


and  had   I  crown'd 
With    my    slain    self    the    heaps    of 

whom  I  slew  — 
So  —  better!  —  But   this   worship   of 

the  Queen, 
That   honor,   too,   wherein   she  holds 

him  —  this, 
This    was    the    sunshine    that    hath 

given  the  man 
A  growth,  a  name  that  branches  o'er 

the  rest, 
And   strength   against   all    odds,    ^nd 
what  the  King 
-■  So    prizes  —  overprizes  —  gentleness. 

Manhood,    and    knighthood;    where-      Her  likewise  would   I   worship  an   I 

fore  hover'd  round  might. 

Lancelot,    but    when    he    mark'd    his      I    never    can    be   close   with    her.    as 


high  sweet  smile 
In   passing,   and   a  transitory   word 
Make    knight    or    churl    or    child    or 

damsel  seem 
From    being    sn.iled    at    happier    in 

themselves  — 
Sigh'd,  as  a  boy  lame-born  beneath  a 

height. 


he 
That    brought    her    hither.     Shall    I 

pray  the  King 
To   let   me   bear   some   token    of   his 

Queen 
Whereon    to   gaze,    remembering  her 
—  forget 
^,  "    '      .  .        ,,  Mv  heats  and  violences?  live  afresh? 

1  hat  glooms  his  valley,  sighs  to  see      What,    if    the    Queen    disdain'd    to 

the  peak  grant   it!   nav, 

bun-Hush  d,    or    touch    at    night    the      Being    so    stately-gentle,    would    she 

northern  star;  make 

For  0"e   from  out  his  village   lately      My    darkness    blackness?    and    with 

climb  d                                                           ],„^^,  sweet  grace 
And    brought    report   of  azure   lands      She   greeted    my   return!     Bold   will 
and  fair,  I  be 

Far  seen   to   left   and    right;  a-u!   he      Some    goodly    cognizance    of    Guine- 
nimself  yj^P 


26o 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


In  lieu  of  this  rough  bt-ast  upon  my 

shield, 
Langueii     gules,     and     tooth'd     with 

grinning  savagery." 

And     Arthur,     when     Sir     Balin 

sought  him,  said: 
"What     wilt     thou     bear?"     Iklin 

was  bold,  and  aslc'd 
Xo  bear  her  own  crown-royal   upon 

shield, 
Whereat  she   smiled   and   turn'd   her 

to  the  King, 
Who  ansvver'd,  "  Thou  shalt  put  the 

crown    to  use. 
The  crown  is  bi't  the  sliadow  of  the 

King. 
And  this  a  shadow's  shadow,  let  him 

have  it. 
So    this    will    help    him    of    his    vio- 
lences !  " 
"  No  shadow,"   said   Sir   Balin,   "  O 

my  Queen, 
But  light  to  me!  no  shadow,  O  my 

King 
But    golden     earnest     of     a     gentler 

life!" 

So  Balin  bare  the  crov\n,  and   all 

the  knights 
Approved   him,  and   the  Queen,   and 

all  the  world 
Made  music,   and    he    felt   his  being 

move 
In    music    with    his   Order,    and    the 

King. 

The  nightingale,  full-toned  in  mid- 
dle May, 

Hath  ever  ami  anon  a  note  so  thin 

It  seems  another  voice  in  other 
groves ; 

Thus,  after  some  quick  burst  of  sud- 
den wrath. 

The  music  in  him  seem'd  to  change, 
and  grow 

Faint  and   far-off. 


And  once  he  saw  the  thrall 

His  passion  half  had  gauntleted  to 
death, 

That  causer  of  his  banishment  and 
shame. 

Smile  at  him,  as  he  deem'd,  presump- 
tuously: 

His  arm  half  rose  to  strike  again, 
but  fell: 

The  memory  of  that  cogniiance  on 
shield 

\\'eighted  it  down,  but  in  himself  he 
moan'd: 

"  Too  high  this  mount  of  Camelot 
for  me: 

These  high-set  courtesies  are  not  for 
me. 

Shall  I  not  rather  prove  the  worse 
for   these? 

Fierier  and  stormier  from  restrain- 
ing, break 

Into  some  madness  ev'n  before  the 
Queen?" 

Thus,  as  a  hearth  lit  in  a  moun- 
tain  home. 

And  glancing  on  the  window,  when 
the  gloom 

Of  twilight  deepens  round  it,  seems 
a  flame 

That  rages  in  the  woodland  far  be- 
low, 

So  when  his  inoods  were  darken'd, 
court  and  King 

And  all  the  kindly  warmth  of 
Arthur's  hall 

Shadow'd  an  angry  distance:  yet  he 
strove 

To  learn  the  graces  of  their  Table, 
fought 

Hard  with  himself,  and  seem'd  at 
length  in  peace. 

Then   chanced,   one   morning,   that 
Sir  Balin  sat 
Close-bower'd    in    that    garden    nigh 
the  hall. 


BALIN  AND  BALAN 


261 


A   walk   of   roses   ran   from   door  to 

door  ; 
A    walk    of    lilies    crost    it    to    the 

bow  cr : 
And   down    that     ange   of    roses   the 

great   Queen 
Came  with   slow  srep>,   the   morning 

on  lur  face; 
And  all  in  shadow  from  the  counter 

door 
Sir  Lancelot  as  to  meet  her,  then  at 

once, 
As  if  he  saw  not,  glanced  asitle,  and 

paced 
The  long  white  walk  of  lilies  toward 

the  boucr. 
Follow'd  the  Queen;  Sir  Balin  heard 

her  "  Prince, 
Art  thou  so  little  loyal  to  thy  Queen, 
As  pass  without  good  morrow  to  tliy 

Queen?" 
To  whom  Sir  Lancelot  with  his  eyes 

on  earth, 
"  Fain  wou'd   I  still  be  loyal  to  the 

Queen." 
"  Yea  so,"  she  said,  "  but  so  to  pass 

me  by  — 
So  loyal  scarce  is  loyal  to  thyself. 
Whom  all  men  rate  the  king  of  cour- 
tesy. 
Let  be:  ye  stand,  fair  lord,  as  in  a 
dream." 


For      see,      how      per  feet-pure  I     As 

light  a  flush 
As   hardly    tints    the   blossom   of   the 

quince 
Would  mar  their  charm  of  stainless 

maidenhood." 

"  Sweeter  to  me,"  she  said,   ''  this 

garden    rose 
Deep-hued  and  many-folded !  sweeter 

still 
The    wild-wood     hyacinth     and     the 

bloom   of   May. 
Prince,  we  have  ridd'n  before  among 

the  flowers 
In   those  fair  days  —  not  all  as  cool 

as  these, 
Tho'    season-earlier.     Art    thou   sad? 

or  sick  ? 
Our   noble   King  will   send    thee   his 

own  leech  — 
Sick?  or   for   any  matter   anger'd   at 

me?" 

Then     Lancelot     lifted     his    large 

eyes;  they  dwelt 
Deep-tranced  on  hers,  and  could  not 

fall :  her  hue 
Changed  at  his  gaze:  so  turning  side 

by  side 
They   past,    and    Balin   started    from 

his  bower. 


Then     Lancelot     with     his     hand 

among  the  flowers 
"Yea — for    a    dream.     Last    night 

methought  I  saw 
That  maiden   Saint  who  stands  with 

lily  in  hand 
In    yonder    shrine.     All    round    her 

prest  the  dark. 
And    all    the    light    upon    her   silver 

face 
Flow'd    from    the    spiritual    lily    that 

she    held. 
Lo!    these    her    emblems   drew    mine 

eyes  —  away : 


"  Queen  ?   subject  ?   but   I    see   not 

\^  hat    I   see. 
Damsel  and  lover?  hear  not  what  I 

hear. 
My   father  hath   begotten   me  in   his 

wrath. 
I   suflfer   from   the  things  before  me, 

know. 
Learn  nothing;  am  not  worthy  to  be 

knight ; 
A    churl,    a    clown !  "    and    in    him 

gloom  on  gloom 
Dcepen'd :     he     sharply     caught     his 

lance  and  shield, 


262 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Nor  stay'd  to  crave  permission  of  tlie 

king, 
But,     Iliad     for    strange    adventure, 

dash'd  away. 


He    took    the    selfsame    track    as 

Halan,  saw 
The    fountain    where    they    sat    to- 
gether, sigh'd, 
"  Was  I  not  better  there  with  him?  " 

and   rode 
The   skyless   woods,   but   under  open 

blue 
Carp;  on   the  hoarhead   woodman   at 

a  bough 
Wearily      hewing.     "  Churl,      thine 

ax  !  "  he  cried. 
Descended,    and    disjointed     it    at    a 

blow : 
To  whom  the  woodman  utter'd  won- 

dcringly, 
"  Lord,  thou  couldst  lay  the  Devil  of 

these   uooils 
If    arm    of    tU-sIi    could    lay    him." 

Balin    cried, 
"  Him,  or  the  viler  devil  who  plays 

his  part. 
To    lay    that    de\  il    would     lay    the 

Ucvil  in  me." 
"  Nay,"   said    the   churl,   "  our    devil 

is  a  truth, 
I   saw   the    Hash   of   him    but   yester- 

evcn. 
And  some  do  say  that  our  Sir  Gar- 
Ion,  too 
Hath    learn'd    black    magic,    and    to 

ride    unseen. 
Look    to    the   cave."      But    Balin    an- 

swer'd  him, 
"  Old   fabler,  these  be  fancies  of  the 

churl, 
Look  to  thy  wooilcraft,"  and  so  leav- 
ing him. 
Now  with  slack  rein  and  careless  of 

himself. 
Now   with   dug  spur   and    raving  at 

himself, 


Now    with    droopt    brow    down    the 

long  glades  he  rode; 
So  mark'd  not  on  his  right  a  cavern- 
chasm 
Yawn  over  darkness,  where,  nor  far 

within. 
The     whole     day     died,     but     dying, 

gleam'd  on  rocks 
Roof-pendent,      sharp;      and      others 

from   the  floor, 
Tusklike,    arising,    made    that    mouth 

of  night 
Whereout     the     Demon     issued     up 

from    Hell. 
He   mark'd   not   this,    but   blind   and 

deaf  to  all 
Save    that    chain'd    rage,    which   ever 

yelpt  within. 
Past   eastward    from   the   falling   sun. 

At  once 
He     felt     the     hollow-biaten     mosses 

thud 
And    tremble,   and    then    the   shadow 

of  a  spear. 
Shot  from  behind  him,  ran  "long  the 

ground. 
Sideways    he    started    from    the    path, 

and  saw. 
With  pointed  lance  as  if  to  pierce,  a 

shape, 
A  light  of  ar'  lor  b\'  him   flash,   and 

pass 
And   vanish   in   the   woods;   and    fol- 

low'd    this, 
But   all    so    blind    in    rage    that    un- 
awares 
He  burst   his  lance   apainst   a   forest 

bough, 
Dishorsed    himself,    and    rose    again, 

and  fled 
Far,    till    the    castle    of    v    King,    the 

hall 
Of     Pellam,     lichen-bearded,     grayly 

draped 
With      streaming      grass,      appear'd, 

low-built  but  strong; 
The    ruinous    donjon    as    a    knull    of 

moss, 


BALIN  AND  BALAN 


263 


The    battlement    overtopt    with    ivy- 
tods, 
A  home  of   bats,   in  every   tower  an 

owl. 


Then    spake    the    men    of    rellam 
cr>  ing,    "  LonI, 
Why  wear  ve  this  cro\Mi-ro\al   upon 

shield  ?  " 
Said   Baiin,  "  For  tlie  fairest  and  the 

best 
Of    huiies    living    gave    me     this    to 

bear." 
So     stall'd     his     horse,     and     strode 

across  the  court, 
Hut    found     the    greetings    both    of 

knight  and  King 
Faint   in   the   low  dark  hall   of  ban- 
quet: leaves 
Laid    their    green    faces    flat    against 

the  panes, 
Sprays     grated,     and     the     canker'd 

boughs  without 
Whined    in    the   wood;    for    all    was 

hush'd    within, 
Till  when   at   feast  Sir  Garlon   like- 
wise   ask'd, 
"Why   wear  ye   that   crown-royal?" 

Balin  said, 
"  The  Queen   we  worship,   Lancelot, 

I,  and  all, 
As   fairest,   best  and   purest,    granted 

me 
To   bear   it !  "     Such   a   sound  —  for 

Arthur's  knights 
Were   hated   strangers  in   the  hall  — 

as  makes 
The      white      swan-mother,      sitting, 

when  she  hears 
A  strange  knee  rustle  thro'  her  secret 

reeds, 
Made     Garlon,      hissing;     then     he 

sourly   smiled. 
"Fairest   I   grant  her:   I   have  seen; 

but  best, 
Rest,     purest?     thou     from     Arthur's 
hall,   and  yet 


So  simple!  hast  thou  eyes,  or  if,  are 

these 
So   far  besotted   that   they   fail    to  see 
1  his     fair     wife-u  orship     cloaks     a 

secret   shame? 
Truly,    ye    men    of    Arthur    be    but 

hahcs." 


A    goblet   on    the    hoard    by    Balin, 
boss'd 
With    holy    Joseph's    legend,    on    his 

right 
Stood,    all    of    masbiest    bronze:    one 

side    had    sea 
And  ship  and   sail  and   angels   blow- 
ing on  it : 
And    one    was    rough    with    wattling, 

and   the  walls 
Or  that  low  church  he  built  at  Glas- 
tonbury. 
I  his   Bal'n   graspt,   but  while   in  act 

to  hurl. 
Thro'  memory  of  that  token  on  the 

shield 
Relax'd   his  hold:     "I   will   be  gen- 
tle," he  thought 
"  And    passing    gentle  "    caught    his 

hand   away. 
Then  fiercely  to  Sir  Garlon,   "  Eyes 

have   I 
That   saw    to-day    the    shadow    of   a 

spear, 
Shot  from  behind  me,  run  along  the 

ground ; 
Eyes,    too,    that    long    have    watch'd 

how  Lancelot  draws 
From  homage  to  the  best  ami  purest, 

might. 
Name,    manhood,    and    a    grace,    but 

scantly    thine. 
Who,  sitting  in  thine  own  hall,  canst 

endure 
To   mouth   so   huge   a    foulness  —  to 

thy  guest, 
Me,    me   of  Arthur's  Table      Felon 

talk! 
Let  be!  no  more!  " 


264 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 

But  not  the  less  by 


night 

The   scorn   of  Garlon,   poisoning  all 
his  rest, 

Stung    him    in    dreams.     At    lt'nt;ili, 
and   dim   thro'    leaves 

Blinkt  the  white  morn,  sprays  grated, 
and  old  boughs 

Whined  in   the  wood.      He  rose,  de- 
scended, met 

The  scorncr  in  the  castle  court,  and 
fain. 

For   hate   and    loathing,    would   have 
past  him  by ; 

But  when   Sir  Garlon  utter'd  mock- 
ing-wise; 

"  What,     wear    ye    still     that    same 
crown-scandalous?  " 

His   countenance    blacken'd,    and    his 
forehead   veins 

Bloated,    and    branch'd ;    and    tearing 
out  of  sheath 

The   brand,    Sir   Balln   with   a  fiery, 
"  Hal 

So    thou    be    shadow,    here    I    make 
thee  ghost," 

Hard  upon  helm  smote  him,  and  the 
blade  flew 

Splintering    in    six,    and   clinkt   upon 
the  stones. 

Then    Garlon,    reeling    slowly    back- 
ward, fell. 

And    Balin    by    the    banneret    of   his 
helm 

Dragg'd    him,   and   struck,   but   from 
the  castle  a  cry 

Sounded     across    the    court,    and  — 
men-at-arms, 

A  score  with  pointed  lances,  making 
at  him  — 

He    dash'd    the    pummel   at   the   fore- 
most   face, 
Beneath   a  low  door  dipt,  and  made 
his  feet 

Wrings    thro'    a    glimmering    gallery, 
till  he  mark'd 

The  portal  of  King  Tellam's  chapel 
wide 


And    inward    to   the   wall;   he   stev)t 

behind  ; 
Thence  in  a  moment  heard  them  pass 

like  wolves 
Howling;  but  while  he  stared  about 

the   shrine. 
In    which    he    scarce   could    spy    the 

Christ  for  Saints, 
Beheld  before  a  golden  altar  lie 
The   longest  lance  his  eyes  had  ever 

seen, 
Point-painted  red  ;  and  seizing  there- 
upon 
Push'd  thro'  an  open  casement  down, 

lean'd  on   it. 
Leapt    in    a    semicircle,    and    lit    on 

earth; 
Then    hand    at    ear,    and    harker.ing 

from  what  side 
The    blindfold    rummage    buried    in 

the  walls 
Might    echo,    ran    the   counter    path, 

and   found 
His    charger,    mounted    on    him    and 

away. 
An  arrow  whizz'd  to  the  right,  one 

to  the  left, 
One   overhead ;    and    Pellam's    feeble 

cry, 
"  Stay,  stay  him!  he  dcfileth  heavenly 

things 
With      earthly      uses " —  made     him 

quickly  dive 
Beneath   the   boughs,   and    race   thro' 

many  a  mile 
Of   dense   and   open,    till   his   goodly 

horse, 
Arising  wearily  at  a  fallen  oak, 
Stumbled    headlong,    and    cast    him 

face  to  ground. 


Half-wroth  he  had  not  ended,  but 

all  glad, 
Knightlike,    to    find    his   charger   yet 

unlamed, 
Sir   Balin   drew   the  shield   from   otf 

his  neck, 


BALIN  AND  BALAN 


265 


Stared    at    the    priceless    co^iiizante, 

and    thoustit, 
"  I    have    shamed    thee    so    tliat    now 

thou  shaiiiest  me, 
Thee  uill  1  bear  no  more,"  hi^jh  on  a 

branch 
HunK   it,   and    turn'd   as'dc   into   tlie 

\v  ooils, 
And  there  in  gloom  cast  himself  ail 

along, 

Moaning,    "  My    violences,    my    vio- 
1  I  )> 

lencesl 

But  now  the  wholesome  music  of 

the    wood 
Was   dumb'd    by   one    from    out    the 

hall  of  Mark, 
A    damsel-errant,    warbling,    as    she 

rode 
The    woodland    alleys,    Vivien,    w'ch 

her  Squire. 

"  The  fire  of  Heaven  has  kill'd  the 

barren   cold, 
And  kindled  all  the  plain  and  all  the 

wold. 
The  new  leaf  ever  pushes  oft  the  old. 
The  fire  of  Heaven  is  not  the  flame 

of  Hell. 

Old    priest,   who  mumble  worship 

in  your  quire  — 
Old    monk    and    nun,    yc    scorn    the 

world's  desire, 
Vet  in   vour   frosty  cells  ye   feel   the 

fire! 
The  fire  of  Heaven  is  not  the  flame 

of   Hell. 

The  fire  of  Heaven  is  on  the  dusty 

ways. 
The    wayside    blossoms    open    to   the 

blaze. 
The   whole   wood-world    is   one    full 

peal  of  praise. 
The  fire  of  Heaven  is  not  the  flume 

of  Hell. 


The  fire  of  Heaven  is  Lord  of  all 

things    good. 
And  starve  not   thou   this  (iie   within 

th\    blood, 
Hut    follow     Vivien     thro'    the    tiery 

Hood  ! 
The  fire  of  Heaven  is  not  the  (lame 

of  Hell!" 

Then  turning  to  her  Squire,  "  This 
fire  of   Heaven, 
This  old   sun-«orsliip,   boy,   will    ri~.e 

again, 
And    beat    the    cross    to    earth,    and 

break   the   King 
And  all  his  Table." 

Then  they  reach 'd  a  glade, 
Where  under  one  long  lane  of  cloud- 
less air 
Before     another     wood,      the     royal 

crown 
Sparkled,    and    swaying   upon   a    rest- 
less elm 
Drew    the    vague    glance    of    Vivien, 

and  her  Squire; 
-Amazed    were    these;    "  I>o,    there," 

she  cried  — "  a  crown  — 
Borne    by   some    high    lord-prince   of 

Arthur's  hall. 
And  there  a  horse!  the  rider?  where 

is  he? 
See,  yonder  lies  one  dead  within  the 

wood. 
Not   dead;   he   stirs!  —  but   sleeping. 

I  will  speak. 
Hail,  royal  knight,  we  break  on   thy 

sweet  rest, 
Not,  doubtless,  all  unearn'd  by  noble 

deeds. 
But     bounden     art     thou,     if     from 

Arthur's  hall. 
To    help    the    weak.     Behold,    I    fly 

from  shame, 
A  lustful  King,  who  sought  to  win 

my  love 
Thro'    evil    ways;    the    kn-'ght,    with 

whom   I   rode. 


266 


IDYLLS  OF  THL  KING 


Hath  suffer'tl  misa.lvinturc,  anJ  my 

squire 
Hath  in  him  small  dcfcnbc;  but  thou, 

Sir   I'rinic, 
Wilt  suri'ly  guulc  nii-  to  the  warrior 

KiriK, 
Arthur    the    blameless,    pure    as    any 

nuiiil. 
To   get    nie   shelter    for   my    inaiilen- 

hood. 
I    charge    thee   by    that   trown    upon 

thy    shjelil. 
And    by    the    great    (Juccn's    name, 

arise   and   hence." 

And     Balin     rose,     "Thither     no 

more!    nor    I'rince 
Nor  knight  am  1,  but  one  that  hath 

defamed 
The   cognizance   she    gave    me:    here 

I   dwell 
Savage     among     the     savage     woods, 

here  die  — 
Die:  let  the  wolves'  black  maws  en- 

sepulchei 
Their    brother    beast,    whose    anger 

was  his  lord. 
O  me,   that  such  a  name  as  Guine- 
vere's, 
Which    our    high    Lancelot    hatii    so 

lifted   up. 
And    been    thereby    uplifted,    should 

thro'   me. 
My  violence,  and  my  villainy,  come 

to  shame." 

Thereat  she  suddenly   laugh'd   and 

shrill,  anon 
Sigh'd    all    as  suddenly.     Said    Balin 

to   her, 
"  Is  this  thy  courtesv  —  to  mock  me, 

ha? 
Hence,    for    I    will    not    with    thee." 

Again    she   sigh'd, 
"Pardon,    sweet    lord!    we    maidens 

often   laugh 
When  sick  at  heart,  when  rather  we 

should  weep. 


I  knew  thee  wron^'d.     1  brake  upon 

thy  rest. 
And    now    full    loth    am    I    to   break 

thy   dream. 
Hut  thou  art  man,  and  canst  abide  a 

truth, 
Tho'       bitter.      Hither,       boy  —  and 

mark   me  vncII. 
Dost     thou     remember     at     Caerleon 

once  — 
A  year  ago  —  nay,   then   I   love  thee 

not  — 
Aye,     thou     rememherest    well  —  one 

Slimmer  dawn  — 
Uy  the  great  tower -- Caerleon  upon 

Usk  — 
Nay,    truly    we    were    hidden:    this 

fair  lord, 
The  flower  of  all  their  vestal  knight- 
hood, knelt 
In   amorous   homage  —  knelt  —  what 

else?  —  ()   aye. 
Knelt,  and  drew  down  from  out  his 

night-black  hair 
And      mumbled      that     white     hand 

v.hose  ring'd  caress 
Had  wander'd  from  her  own  King's 

golden  head. 
And   lost   itself   in   darkness,    till   she 

cried  — 
I    thought    the    great    tower    would 

crash   down   on   both  — 
'  Rise,  my  sweet   King,   and   kiss  me 

on  the  lips, 
Thou     art     my     King.'     This     lad, 

whose  lightest  word 
Is  mere  white  truth  in  simple  naked- 
ness. 
Saw  them  embrace:  he  reddens,  can- 
not speak. 
So   bashful,    he!   but   all   the   maiden 

Saints, 
I'he  deathless  mother-maidenhood  of 

Heaven 
Cry   out    upon    her.     Up    then,    ride 

with  me! 
Talk  not  of  shame!   thou  canst  not, 
an   thou  woulJ'st, 


BALIN  AND  BALAN 


267 


Do  thfsf  more  shanif  than  tlirsf  have 
done  thci.isflvcs." 

She    lied    with    rase;    but    horror- 

striikrn  hr, 
Rrmniiberintj     tliat     dark     bowrr    at 

Caniclot, 
BrratKfd  in  a  dismal  whisper,  "  It  is 

truth." 

Sunnily  she  smiled,  "  And  even  in 

this  lone  wood, 
Sweet    lord,    ye    do    ritjht    well    to 

whisper  tiiis. 
Fools     prate,     and     perish     traitors. 

Woods  have  ton;;ufs, 
As  walls  have  ears;  but  thou  shalt  go 

with  me. 
And  we  will  speak  at  hrst  cxceedin^^ 

low. 
Meet  is  it  the  good  Kini;  be  not  de- 
ceived. 
Sec  now,  I  set  thee  lu'tjh  on  vantage 

ground. 
From  whence  to  watch  the  time,  and 

eagle-like 
Stoop   at   thy   will    on    Lancelot   and 

the  Queen." 

She    cr.ised ;    liis    evil    spirit    upon 

him  leapt, 
He  ground  his  teeth  togetiier,  sprang 

with  a  yell, 
Tore    from    the   branch,   and   cast   on 

earth,   the  shield, 
Drove    his    mail'd    heel    athwart    the 

royal   crown, 
Stampt  all  into  defacement,  hurl'd  it 

from  him 
Among  the  forest  weeds,  and  cursed 

the  tale, 
The  told-of,  and  the  teller. 

That  weird  yell, 
Unearthlier   than    all    shriek   of   bird 

or   beast, 
Thrill'd  thro'  the  woods;  and  Balan 

lurking  there 


(ffis     quest     was     unaccomplish'd) 

heard    and    thought, 
"The   scream   of    that    Wood-devil    I 

came   to  quell !  " 
Then    Hearing,    "  Lo!    he    hath    slain 

some   brotliei  knight. 
And  tramples  on  tlic  goodly  shield  to 

show 
His  loathing  of  our  Order  and   the 

Queen. 
.My    quest,     meseems,     is    here.     Or 

devil  or  man 
Guard   thou  thine  head."     Sir  Balin 

spake  not  word, 
Hut  snatch'd   a  sudden   buckler  from 

the   Squire, 
.And  vaulted  on  his  horse,  and  so  they 

crasli'd 
In    onset,    and     Kin^    I'ellam's    holy 

spear. 
Reputed  to  be  red  «  ith  sinless  blood, 
Redden'd  at  once  with  sinful,  for  the 

point 
Across    the   maiden    shield    of    Balan 

prick'd 
Tlie  hauberk  to  the  flesh;  and  Balin's 

horse 
Was  wearied  to  the  death,  and,  when 

they  clash'd. 
Rolling  back  upon  Balin,  crush'd  the 

man 
Inward,  and  either  fell,  and  swoon 'd 

away. 

Then    to  her   Squire  mutter'd    the 

damsel,   "  Fools! 
This  fellow  hath  wrought  some  foul- 
ness with  his  Queen: 
Else  never  had  he  borne  her  crown, 

nor  raved 
And    thus    foam'd    over    at    a    rival 

name: 
But  thou.  Sir  Chick,  that  scarce  hast 

broken   shell, 
Art  yet  half-yolk,   not  even  come   to 

down  — 
Who    never    sawest    Caerleon    upon 

Usk  — 


268 


IDYLLS  OF   IHL  KING 


And   yrt  hast   often   pliMclnl    tor    my 

\ii\r  — 
See  what  1  M'c,  l)c  thou  wlu-ri-  I  have 

lircn, 
Or    rUc    Sir    Chiilt  —  dismoun'    and 

looif  their  cas«iurs 
I   fain  would   know   what  manner  of 

n"'.!  tlicy  l>'"." 
And    when    the    Siiuirr    had    loosed 

them,   "  ( joodly  I  —  look! 
They   might    have   cropt    the   myriad 

tliiuiT  (if   May, 
And  butt  each  other  here,  like  brain- 
less bulls. 
Dead  for  one  heifer!  " 

Then    tlie    centle    Squire, 
"  I  hold  them  happy,  so  they  died  fur 

love : 
And,    Vivien,    tho'    ye    beat   me    like 

your  dog, 
I,  too,  could  die,  as  now  1  live,   for 

thee." 

"  Live  on.  Sir  Boy,"  she  cried.     "  I 

better  prize 
The  living  doj;  than   the  dead   lion: 

away ! 
I    cannot    bronk    to    (;azc    upon    the 

dead." 
Then  leapt  her  palfrey  o'er  tiie  fallen 

oak. 
And  bounding  forward,  "  Leave  them 

to  the  wulvts." 

But  when  their  foreheads  felt  the 
cooling  air, 

Balin  first  woke,  and  seein<j:  that  true 
face, 

Familiar  up  from  cradle-time,  so 
wan, 

Crawl'd  slowly  with  low  moans  to 
where  he  lay, 

And  on  his  dving  brother  cast  him- 
self 

Dying;  and  he  lifted  faint  eyes;  he 
felt 


One  near  him;  all  at  once  they 
luurui   the  world, 

Starin^;  wild-ujde;  then  with  a  child- 
like  wad, 

.And  draw  inn  down  the  dim  disas- 
trous  brov*' 

That  o'er  him  hung,  he  kiss'd  it, 
moan'd  and  spake: 

"  O  Balin,   Balin,   I   that   fain  had 

died 
To  save   thy   Lie,   ha\e   broujjht   tliee 

to  thy  death. 
Why  had  ye  not  the  shield    I   knew  ? 

and  why 
Trampled    ye    thus    on    that    which 

bare   tin    Croun? 

Then     Balin    told     him    brokenlj-, 
and  in  gasps, 
All    that    had    chanced,    and    Balan 
moan'd   again. 

"  Brother,  I  dwelt  a  day  in  Pel- 
lam's  hall: 

This  Garlon  mock'd  me,  but  I 
heeded   not. 

And  one  said,  '  Lat  in  peace!  a  liar 
is  he. 

And  hates  thee  for  the  tribute!'  this 
good  knight 

Told  me,  that  twice  a  wanton  dam- 
sel came, 

.And  sought  for  Garlon  at  the  castle- 
gates, 

Whom  Pcllam  drove  away  with  holy 
heat. 

I  .veil  believe  this  damsel,  and  the 
one 

Who  stood  beside  thee  even  now, 
the  same. 

'  She  dwells  among  the  woods,'  he 
said,  ■  and  meets 

And  dallies  with  him  In  the  Mouth 
of   Hell.' 

Foul  are  their  lives;  foul  are  their 
lips;  they  lied. 


mi;ri,ix  and  vivikn 


Pure  as  our  own  true-  Motl-ri       our 
Uiicfii." 

"O      hrothn,"      ansivrr'd      U.iliii, 

"  wor  i<  nir! 
My  niaJfifbS  all  thy  lilc  lus  hrrn  thy 

(loom, 
Thy  rursc,  aii.l  darkcnM  all  thy  day; 

and   iKi'A 
'I  hr   ni'Kht    has  comp.     I    scarce   can 

<rp   tlirc   now. 
(iood-nit:ht!    fur  ue   shall   never   hid 

a^.iin 
(jood-niorrovv— Dark  my  d(K)rn  v\as 

here,    and    dark 
It  uiil  be  there.      I   see  thee  now  nn 

more. 
I     would     not     mine     a^ain     should 

darken  thine, 
Good-night,  true  brother." 

Ralan  answer'd   low 
"Good-m'cht,      true      brother      here! 

Kond-morrow  there! 
We  two  were  born  together,  and  we 

d  ie 
Together  by  one  doom :  "  and  while 

he  spoke 
Closed    his    death-drowsint;   e\rs,    and 

slept   the  sleep 
With  iklin,  cither  lock'd   in  either's 

arms. 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIFIN 

A  STORM  vvas  cominjr,  but  the  winds 
were  still. 

And  in  the  wild  woods  of  Broce- 
liande, 

Before  an  oak,  so  hollow,  huize  and 
old 

It  look'il  a  tower  of  ivied  mason- 
work, 

At  Merlin's  feet  the  wily  Vivien  lay. 

For  he  that  always  bare  in   bitter 
grudge 


269 

The  sliijhts  of  Arthur  and  his    Table 

Maik 
The     Cornish     Kin^;.     had     heard     a 

\ianilerin^  vour, 
A     minstrel    of     Cierleon     b>     strong 

storm 
niown  into  shelter  at  Tintii^il,  say 
That  out  of  naked   knightlike   purity 
Sir    Lancelot   worshipt   no   unmarried 

girl 
Hut   the  great  Queen   herself,    foii-ht 

in    her   name, 
Sware  by  her—  vovns  like  Jieir>,  that 

hit;h  in  heaven 
Love   most,    but    neither    ni.irrv,    nor 

are  given 
In  marriage,  angels  of  our  Lord's  re- 
port. 

He  ceased,  and  then  —  for  Vivien 

sweetly  said 
(She   sat    beside    the    banquet    neare-.t 

Mark), 
"  And    is    the    fair   example    follow'd 

Sir, 
In   Arthur's  household?" — answer'd 

inn(jcently : 

"  Aye,  by  some  fe\v  —  a\  e,  truly  — 
youths  that  hold 
It    more    besr.-ms    the    perfect    vir^'in 
knight 

To   worship  woman   as  true  wife  be- 
yond 

All  hopes  of  gaining,  than  as  maiden 
girl. 

They   place   their   pride    in    I,ancelot 
and  the  Queen. 

So  passionate  for  an  utter  purity 

Heyond   the   limit   of  their  bond,  are 
these, 

For  Arthur  bound  them  not  to  single- 
ness. 

Brave   hearts   and    clean!   and   yet 

God  guide  them  —  young.'' 

Then   .\Iark  was  half  in  heart  to 
hurl  his  cup 


zyo 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Straight  at  the  speaker,  but  foreborc: 
he   rose 

To  leave  the  hall,  and,  Vivien  follow- 
ing him, 

Turn'd  to  her:  "Here  arc  snak.es 
within  the  grass; 

And  you  methinks,  C)  Vivien,  save  ye 
fear 

The  monkish  manhoo.l,  ^nd  the  mask 
of  pure 

\N'orn  by  this  court,  can  stir  them  till 
they  sting." 


And      Vivien      answer'd,     smiling 

scornfully, 
"Why  fear?  because  that  foster'd  at 

thy  court 
I  savor  of  thy  —  virtues?  fear  them? 

110. 

As  I-/Ove,  if  Love  be  perfect,  casts  out 

fear, 
So  Hate,  if  Hate  be  perfect,  casts  out 

fear. 
My   father  died   in  battle  against  the 

Kini;, 
My    mother    on    his    corpse    in    open 

field  ; 
She    bore   me    there,    for    born    from 

death  was  I 
Among  tlie  di'ad  and  sown  upon   the 

u  ind  — 
And    then    on    thee!    and    shown    the 

truth  betinu'S, 
That   old   true   tilth,   and    jottom   of 

the  v\cll. 
Where    Truth    is    hidden.     Graciovis 

lessons  thine 
And    maxims    of    the    mud!     'This 

Arthur  pure! 
Grent   Nature   thro'   the   flesh   herself 

hath  made 
Gives  him  the  lie!     There  is  no  be- 
ing pure, 
Mv  cherub;  saith  not  Holy  Writ  the 

same  ?  '- — 
If  I  were  Arthur,  I  would  have  thy 

blood. 


Thy      blt.sint,,      stainless      King!     i 

bring  thee  back. 
When  I  have  ferreted  out  their  bur- 
rowings. 
The  hearts  of  all  this  Order  in  mine 

hand  — 
Aye  —  so  that  fate  and  craft  and  folly 

close, 
Perchance,     one     curl     of     Arthur's 

golden  beard. 
To  me  this  narrow  grizzled  fork  of 

thine 
Is  clcaner-fashion'd  —  Well,   I   loved 

thee  first, 
That  warps  the  wit." 

Loud  laugh'd  the  graceless  Mark. 
But    Vivien,    into    Camclot    stealing, 

lodged 
Lo\  •  in  the  city,  and  on  a  festal  day 
When    Guinevere    was    crossing    the 

great  hall 
Cast  herself  down,  knelt  to  the  Queen, 

and  wail'd. 

"  WTiy  kneel  ye  there?     What  evil 

have  ye  wrought? 
Rise!"   and    the    damsel    bidden    rise 

arose 
And    stood    with    folded    hands    and 

downward  eyes 
Of   glancing  corner,   and   all   meekly 

said, 
"  None  wrought,   hut  sufTer'd  much, 

an   orphan   maid  ! 
My    father    died    in    battle    for    thy 

King, 
My  moth.cr  on  his  corpse  —  in  open 

field, 
The  sad  sea-sounding  wastes  of  Lyon- 

ncsse  — 
Poor  wretch  —  no  friend  !  —  and  now 

by  Mark  the  King 
For    that    small    charm    of    feature 

mine,   pursued  — 
If  any  such  be  mine  —  I  flv  to  thee. 
Save,    save    me    thou  —  ^Voman    of 

women  —  thine 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


271 

The    wreath    of    beauty,    thine    the  "  Is  that  the   Lancelot  ?  gor     .— 

crown  of  power,  aye,   but   gaunt: 

Be  thine  the  balm  of  pity,  O  Heaven's  Courteous  —  amends  for  gauntness  — 

own  white  takes  her  hand  — 

Larth-angel,  stainless  bride  of  stain-  That   glance   of    theirs,    but    for   the 

less  King—  street,  had  been 

Help,    or  he  follows!  take  me  to  thy-  A  dinging  kiss  — how   hand   lingers 

.self!  in  hand! 

O  yield  me  shelter  for  mine  innocency      Let  go  at  last!  —  they  ride  away 

Among   thy  maidens!"  to  hawk 

For    waterfowl.     Royallcr    game    is 
mine. 

Here    her   slow    sweet   eyes  For  such  a  supersensual  sensual  bond 

!•  ear-tremulous,  but  humbly  hopeful.  As  that  gray  cricket  ciiirpt  of  at  our 

>"ose  hearth  — 

Fixt  on  her  hearer's,  while  the  Queen  Touch    flax    with    flame  — a    glance 

who  stood  will  serve  — the  liars! 

All   glittering  like   May  sunshine  on  Ah,  little  rat  that  borest  in  the  dyke 

May  leaves  Thy  hole  by  night  to  let  th:  boundless 

In  green  and  gold,  and  plumed  with  de?p 


green  replied, 

"  Peace,  child!  of  overpraise  and  over- 
blame 

We     choose     the     last.     Our     noble 
Arthur,  him 

Ye   scarce   can   overpraise,   will    hear 
and  know. 

Nay  —  we    believe    all    evil    of    thy 
Mark  — 

Well,  we  shall  test  thee  farther;  but 
this  hour 

We  ride  a-hawking  with  Sir  Lance- 
lot. 

He  hath  given  us  a  fair  falcon  which 
he  train'd ; 

We  go  to  prove  it.     Bide  vc  here  the 
while." 


She    past;    and    Vivien    murmur'd 

after  "Go! 
I   bide   the  while."     Then   thro'   the 

portal-arch 
Peering  askance,  and  muttering  bro- 

kenwise, 
As  one  that  labors  with  an  evil  dream, 


Down  upon   far-of?  cities  while  they 

dance  — 
Or    dream  —  of    thee    they    dream'd 

not  —  nor  of   me 
These  —  aye,  but  each  of  either:  ride, 

and  dream 
The  mortal  dream  that  never  yet  was 

mine  — 
Ride,  ride  and  dream  until  ye  wake  — 

to  me! 
Then,  narrow  court  and  lubber  King, 

farewell ! 
For  Lancelot  will  be  gracicus  to  the 

rat. 
And  our  wise  Queen,  if  knowing  that 

I  know, 
Will  hate,  loathe,   fear  —  but  honor 

me  the  more." 


Yet  while  they  rode  together  down 

the  plain. 
Their  talk  was  all  of  training,  terms 

of  art, 
Diet    and    seeling,    jesses,    leash    and 

lure. 


Brheld  the  Queen  and  Lancelot  get  to      "  She  is  t-o  no'  le,"  he  said,  "  to  check 
fioi^se.  at  p.es. 


272 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KLNG 


Nor  will  she  rake:  there  is  no  base- 
ness in  her.  " 
Here  when  the  Quern  demanded  as 

by  chance, 
"  Know    ye    the    stranjicr    woman  ?  " 

"  Let   her  be," 
Said  Lancelot  and   unhooded  casting 

off 
The  goodly  falcon  free;  she  tower'd ; 

her  bells, 
Tone  under   tone,   shriU'd,   and   they 

lifted  up 
Their  eager   faces,  wondering  at  the 

strength. 
Boldness    and     royal    knighthood    of 

the  bird 
Who  pounced  her  quarry  and  slew  it. 

Many  a  time 
As     once  —  of      old  —  among      the 

flowers  —  they   rude. 

But    Vivien    half-forgotten    of    the 
Queen 
Among    her    damsels   broidering    sat, 

heard,  watch'd 
And    whisper'd :    thro'    the    peaceful 

court  she  crept 
And  whisper'd :  then  as  Arthur  in  the 

highest 
Leaven'd  the  world,  so  N'ivien  in  the 

lowest. 
Arriving  at  a  time  of  golden  rest. 
And  sowing  one  ill  hint  from  ear  to 

ear. 
While  all  the  heathen  lay  at  Arthur's 

feet, 
And  no  quest  came,  but  all  was  joust 

and   play, 
Leaven'd  his  hall.     They  heard  and 

let  her  be. 

Thereafter  as  an  enemv  that  has 
left 

Death  in  the  living  waters,  and  with- 
drawn, 

The  wily  Vivien  stole  from  Arthur's 
court. 


She    hated    all    the    knights,    and 
heard  in  though. 
Their  lavish  comment  w!ien  her  name 

was  named. 
For  once,  when  Arthur  walking  all 

alone, 
Vext    at    a   rumor    issued    from    her- 
self 
Of  some  corruption  crept  among  his 

knights. 
Had   met   her,   Vivien,   being   greeted 

fair. 
Would    fain  have  wrought   upon   his 

cloudy  mood 
With       reverent      eyes      mock-loyal, 

shaken  voice. 
And   flutter'd   adoration,   anil  at   la.st 
With  dark  sweet  hints  of  some  who 

prized   him   more 
Than  who  should  prize  him  most ;  at 

which  the  King 
Had    gazed    upon    her    blankly    and 

gone  by : 
But  one  had   watch'd,   and   had   not 

held  his  peace: 
It    made    the   laughter    of    an    after- 
noon 
That     Vivien     should     attempt     the 

blameless  King. 
And  after  that,  she  set  herself  to  gain 
Him,    the   most    famous   man    of    all 

those  times. 
Merlin,   who  knew   the  range  of  all 

their  arts. 
Had  built  the  King  his  havens,  ships, 

and  halls, 
Was  also  Bard,  and  knew  the  starry 

heavens; 
The  people  call'd  him  Wizard  ;  whom 

at  first 
She    play'd    about    with    slight    and 

sprightly   talk, 
And  vivid  smiles,  and     lintly-venom'd 

points 
Of  slander,  glancing  here  and  grazing 

there ; 
And   yielding  to  his  kindlier   moods, 
tlie  Seer 


mr 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN  273 

Would  watch  her  at   her  petulance,  Ami  Vivien  foUow'd,  but  he  mark'd 

_   and  play,  ),er  not. 

Lvn   when    they   seem'd    unloveable,  She  took  the  helm  and   he  the  sail  • 

and  laugh  ,he  boat 

As  those  that  watch  a  kitten;  thus  he  Drave  with  a  sudden  wind  across  the 

grew  depps^ 

lolerant  of  what  he  half  disdain'd.  And  touching  Breton  sands,  they  dis- 

and  she,  embark'd. 

Perceiving  that  she  was  but  half  dis-  And  then  she  follow'd  Alerhn  all  the 

dain    d,  y^.gy^ 

Began  to  break  her  sports  with  graver  Ev'n    to'the   wild    woods   of   Broce- 

'"^'  liande. 

Turn  red  or  pale,  would  often  when  For  Merlin  once  had  told   her  of  a 

they   met  rharm^ 

Sigh  fully,  or  all-silent  pa/e  upon  liim  The  which' if  any  wrought  on  anyone 

With  such  a  fixt  devotion,   that  the  With  woven  paces  and  with  wavinu 

old  man,  arms, 

i  ho    doubtful,   felt  the  flattery,  and  The  man  so  wrought  on  ever  seem'd 

at  times  to  lie 

Would   flatter  his  own   wish   in   age  Closed  in  the  four  walls  of  a  hollow 

for  love,  tower, 

And  half  believe  her  true:  for  thus  at  From  which  was  no  escape  for  ever- 

times  more; 

He  vvaver'd;  but  that  other  clung  to  And   none   could    f^nd   that  man    for 

"^tn,  evermore, 

Fixt  In  her  will,  and  so  the  seasons  Nor    could    he    see    but    him    who 

^^"'*  wrought  the  charm 

Coming  and  going,  and  he  lay  as  dead 

Then  fell  on  Merlin  a  great  melan-  '^"'^  '°*^  '"  ''^'^  ^"'^  ^^^  and  name  and 

choly;  fame. 

He    walk'd    with    dreams    and    dark-  '^"'^  Vivien  ever  sought  to  work  the 
ness,  and  he  found 


A    doom    that    ever    poised    itself    to 

fall. 
An  ever-moaning  battle  in  the  mist, 
World-war  of  dying  flesh  against  the 

life. 
Death  in  all  life  and  lying  in  all  love, 
1  he  meanest  having  power  upon  the 

highest, 
And  the  high  purpose  broken  by  the      ,.     .,K'^*'''  ^'^  ' 

worm.  -"5  '\'"  deepest  reverence  and  in  love. 

A  twist  of  gold  was  round  her  hair;  a 

bo   eavmg  Arthur's  court  he  gain'd  Of  samite  without  price,  that  more 
the  beach;  e.xprest 

There  found  a  little  boat,  and  stept  Thanhid  her,  clung  about  her  lissome 
'"fo'f;  limbs, 


charm 
Upon    the    great    Enchanter    of    the 

Time, 
As  fancying  that  her  glory  would  be 

great 
According  to  his  greatness  whom  she 

quench'd. 

There  lay  she  all  her  length   and 
kiss'd  his  feet, 


274 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


In   color  like  the   satin-shining  palm 
On   sallows  in   the  windy   j^lcaiiis  of 

March: 
And    while   she    iclss'd    them,    cryinR, 

"  Trample  me, 
Dear  feet,  that  I  have  follow'd  thro' 

the   world, 
And  1  will  pay  you  worship;  tread  me 

down 
And  I  will  kiss  you  for  it;"  he  was 

mute: 
So   dark   a   forethought   roll'd    ahout 

his  hrain, 
As  on  a  dull  day  in  an  Ocean  cave 
The    blind    v  ave    feeling'    round    his 

long  sea-hall 
In  silence:  wherefore,  when  she  lifted 

up 
A  face  of  sad  appeal,  and  spake  and 

said, 
"O   Merlin,   do  ye   love  me?"   and 

again, 
"O    Merlin,   do  ye   love   me?"   and 

once  more, 
"  Great  M;ister,  do  ye  love  me?  "  he 

was  mute. 
And   lissome    Vivien,   holding   by   his 

heel, 
Writhed    toward   him,   slidcd    up   his 

knee  and  sat. 
Behind  his  ankle  tv\ined  her  hollow 

feet 
Together,   curved   an   arm   about   his 

neck. 
Clung  like   a  snake;   and   U-ttiiig  her 

left  hand 
Droop  from  his  mighty  shoulder,  as  a 

leaf. 
Made  with  her  right  a  comb  of  pearl 

to  part 
The   lists  of   such   a  beard   as    ■  outh 

gone  out 
Had  left  in  ashes:  then  he  spijke  and 

said, 
Not  looking  at  her,  "  Who  are  wise 

in  love 
Love  most,  say  least,"  and  Vivien  an- 
swer'd  quick. 


"  I  saw  the  little  elf-god  eyeless  once 
In  Arthur's  arras  hall  at  Camelot: 
Hut     neither    eyes     nor     tongue  —  O 

stupid  child ! 
^'et  you  are  wi^ic  who  say  it;  let  me 

think 
Silence  is  wisdom :  I  am  silent  then. 
And  ask  no  kiss;  "  then  adding  a'l  at 

once, 
"  And  lo,  I  clothe  myself  with  wis- 
dom,"  drew 
The  vast   and   shaggy  mantle  of  his 

beard 
Across   her   neck    and    bosom    to   her 

knee. 
And  call'd  herself  a  gilded  summer  fly 
Caught  in  a  great  old  tyrant  spider's 

web. 
Who  meant  to  eat  her  up  in  that  wild 

wood 
Without  one  word.     So  Vivien  call'd 

herself. 
But    rather   seem'd    a   lovely    baleful 

star 
X'eil'd    in    gray   vapor;    till    he   sadly 

smiled : 
"  To  what  request  for  what  strange 

boon,"    he   said, 
"  Are    these   your    pretty    tricks    and 

fooleries, 

0  Vivien,    the    preamble?    yet    my 

thanks. 
For  these  have  broken  up  my  melan- 
choly." 

And   Vivien  answer'd  smiling  sau- 
cily, 
"  What,  O  my  Master,  have  ye  found 
your  voice  ? 

1  bid  the  stranger  welcome.     Thanks 


at   last 


But  yesterday  you  never  open'd  lip. 
Except  indeed  to  drink:  no  cup  had 

we : 
In  mine  own  lady  palms  I  cull'd  the 

spring 
That     gather'd      trickling     dropwise 

from  the  cleft, 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


275 


And  made  a  pretty  cup  of  both  my  And    when    I    look'd,    and    saw    you 

hands  following  still, 

And  offer'd  you  it  kneeling:  then  )ou  My  mind  involved  yourself  the  near- 

drank  est  thing 

And  knew  no  more,  nor  gave  nic  one  In  that  mind-mist,  for  shall  I  tell  you 

poor  word  ;  truth  ? 

O  no  more  thuiks  ihan  might  a  goat  '^'ou  scem'd  that  wave  about  to  break 

have  given  upon  me 

With  no  more  sign  <,i  reverence  than  /nd  sweep  me   from   my   hold   upon 

a  beard.  the  world, 

And   when   we   halted   at   that  other  My  use  and  name  and   fame.     Your 

^^c",  pardon,  child. 

And    I    was    faint   to   swooning,   and  Your  pretty  sport--,  have  brighten'd  ail 

>ou  lai-  again. 

Foot-gilt  with  all  the  blossom-dust  of  And  ask  your  boon,  for  boon  I  owe 

those  you    thrice, 

Deep  meadows  we  had  traversed,  did  Once  for  wrong  done  you  by  confu- 

you  know  sion,  next 

That  Vivien  bathed  jour  feet  before  For  thanks  it  seems  till  now  neglected, 

her  own  ?  last 

And  jet  no  thanks:  and  all  thro'  th's  For     these     your     dainty     gambols: 

wild  wood  w  herefore  ask  ; 

And  all  this  morning  when  I  fondled  And    take   this   boon   so   strange   and 

you:  not  so  strange." 
Boon,  aye,  there  was  a  boon,  ono  nut 

so  strange  — 
How  had  I   wrong'd  you?  surelj   ye 

are  wise. 
But  such  a  silence  is  more  wise  than 

kind." 

And  Merlin  lock'd  his  hand  in  hers 

and  said  : 
"  0  did  ye  never  lie  upon  the  shore. 

And   watch   the  curl'd   white   of   the  I    ever    fear'd    ye    were    not    wholly 

coming  wave  mine; 

Glass'd  in  the  slippery  sand  before  it  And  see,  yourself  have  own'd  ye  did 

breaks?  me  wrong. 

Ev'n  such  a  wave,  but  not  so  pleasur-  The  people  call   you   prophet:   let  it 

a^le,  be: 

Dark  m  the  glass  of  some  presageful  But   not  of   those   that  can   expound 

mood,  themselves. 

Had   I   for  three  days  seen,  readv  to  Take  Vivien  for  expounder;  she  will 

fall.  call 

And     then     I     rose    and     fled     from  That        three-days-long        presageful 

Arthur's  court  gloom  of  yours 

To  break   the   mood.     You    follow'd  No  presage,  uut  the  same  mistrustful 

me  unask'd ;  mood 


And      Vivien      answer'd      smiling 

mournfully : 
"  O  not  so  strange  as  my  long  asking 

it, 
Not  yet  so  strange  as  you  yourself  are 

strange. 
Nor  half  so  strange  as  that  dark  mood 

of  yours. 


276 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


That  makes  you  seem  less  noble  ihan 

yourstlf, 
Whenever    I    have    ask'd    this    very 
boon, 

Now   ask'd   again:    for   sec   y(.u   not, 
dear  love, 

That   such    a   mood    as   tiiat,    which 
lately  glooni'd 

Your  fancy  when  ye  saw  me  follow- 
ing you, 

Must   make  me   fear  still   more   you 
are  not  mine. 

Must  make  me   yearn   still   more   to 
prove  you  mine, 

And  make  me  wish  stiil  more  to  learn 
this  charm 

Of  woven  paces  and  of  vvaviniz  hands, 

As  proof  of  trust.     O  Merlin,  teach 
it  me. 

The  charm  so  taught  will  charm  us 
both  to  rest. 

For,  grant  me  some  slight  power  upon 
your  fate, 

I,    feeling   that   you    felt    me   worthy 
trust, 

Should   rest  and  let  you   rtst,  know- 
ing you  mine. 

And  therefore  be  as  great  as  ye  are 
named, 

Not  muffled   round  with  selfish   reti- 
cence. 

How  hard  you  look  and   how  dcnj- 
ingly! 

O,    if   you    think    this    wickedness    in 
me, 

That   I   should   prove   it  on   you   un- 
awares. 

That    makes    me    passing    wrathful; 
then  our  bond 

Had     best    be    loosed     forever:    but 
think  or  not, 

By  Heaven  that  hears  I  tell  you  the 
clean  truth. 

As  clean  as  blood  of  babes,  as  white 
as  milk: 

O  Merlin,  may  this  earth,  if  eve-  I, 

H  these   unwitty   wandering  wits  of 
mine. 


V.v'n    in    the   jumbled    rubbish    of    a 

dream. 
Have     tript     on     such     conjectural 

treachery  — 
May    this    hard    earth    cleave   to    the 

Nadir  hell 
Down,  down,  and  close  again,  and  nip 

me  Hat, 
H   I   be  such   a  traitress,     'l  ield   my 

boon. 
Till  which  I  scarce  can  yiel  1  you  all  I 

am ; 
And  grant  my  re-reiterated  wish, 
The    great    proof   of    \ our   love :   be- 
cause I  think. 
However   wise,   ye   hardlv   know   me 

yet." 

And  Merlin  loosed  his  hand  from 

hers  and  said, 
''  I  never  was  less  wise,  however  wise, 
Too  curious  Vivien,  tho'  you  talk  of 

trust. 
Than  when  I  told  you  first  of  such  a 

charm, 
■^'ea,  if  yc  talk  of  trust  I  tell  you  this, 
Too  much  I  trusted  when  I  told  you 

that. 
And    stirr'd    this   -'ice    in   you   which 

ruin'd  man 
Thro'    woman    the    first    hour;    for 

howsoe'er 
In    children    a    great    curiousness    be 

v^•ell, 
Who  hav  e  to  learn  themselves  and  all 

the  world, 
In  vou,  that  are  no  child,  for  still  I 

'  find 
"^'our   face  is   practised   when   I   spell 

the  lines, 
I   call    it, —  well,    I   will   not  call    it 

vice : 
But  since  you  name  yourself  the  sum- 
mer fly, 
I  well  could  wish  a  cobweb  for  the 

gnat, 
That  settles,  beaten  back,  and  beaten 

back 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


'// 


Settles,  till  one  could  yield  for  weari-     That  rotting  inward  slowly  niolders 


all. 
'It  is  not  worth  the  keeping:  let  it 

But    shall    it?    answer,    darling,    an- 
swer, no. 
And  trust  me  not  at  all  or  all  in  all.' 

O    Master,    do   ye    love    mv    tender 
rhyme?" 

And    Merlin    look'd    and   half   be- 
lieved her  true, 
So  tender  was  her  voice,  so  fair  her 

"  Nay,  Master,  be  not  wrathful  with  So  sw'eedy  gleam'd   her  eyes  behind 

your  maid;  j,^.^  ^^.^^^ 

Caress  her:  let  her  feel   herself  for-  Like  sunlight  on  the  plain  behind  a 
A,n.  ^7"?           L  shower: 

WTio   feels  nc   he,rt  to   ask  another  And    yet    he    answer'd    half    indig- 

1    tnmk   ye  hardly   know   the   tender 


ness: 
But  since  I  will  not  \ield  to  give  you 

power 
Upon  my  life  £.nd  use  and  name  and 

fmic. 
Why   will    ye    never   ask    some    other 

boon  ? 
Yea,  by  God's  rood,  1  trusted  you  too 

...uch." 

And     Vivien,    like    the    tenderest- 

hearted  maid 
That  ever  bided  tryst  at  village  stile, 
Made  answer,  either  eyelid  wet  with 

tears: 


rhyme 
Of   '  trust   me  not   at   all  or   all    in 

all.' 
I  heard  the  great  Sir  Lancelot  sing  it 

once, 
And  it  shall  answer  for  me.     Listen 

to  it. 


"  Far  other  was  the  sonc  that  once 

I  heard 
By  this  huge  oak,  sung  nearly  where 

we  sit: 
For  here  we  met,  some  ten  or  twelve 

of  us. 
To  chase  a  creature  that  was  current 

*  In  Love,  if  Love  be  Love,  if  Love      t„    ,u„,„      -u  i       ,      ■  .  , 

L  'In   these  wild  woods,   the  hart  with 


be  ours. 

Faith  and  unfaith  can  ne'er  be  equal 
powers 


golden  horns. 
It  was  the  time  when  first  the  ques- 
tion  rose 


Unfaith  in  aught  is  want  of  faith  in      AK«„f     fk„  "^        r  i  -r-  1 1 

][  About    the    founding    of    a    Tabl 


'  It  is  the  little  rift  within  the  lute. 


Round, 
That  was  to  be,  for  love  of  God  and 

,  men 

That  by  and  by  will  make  the  music     And  noble  deeds,  the  flower  of  all  the 

mute,  vvorld. 

And  ever  widening  slowly  silence  all.     And     each     incited     each     to     noble 
,  ~.        .  deeds. 

'The  little  rift  within   the  lover's     And     while     we     waited,     one,     the 
'"''"  \oungcst  of  us, 

Or    little    pitted    speck    in    garncr'd      We  could  not  keep  him  silent,  out  he 
"u't.  flash'd, 


278 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And   into  such  a  son;;,   such  fire  for 

fame, 
Such  trumpet-blowings  in  it,  coming 

down 
To    such    a    stern    and    irun-clas'iinK 

close, 
Tliat    when    he    stopt    we    lung'd    to 

hurl  together, 
And    should    have    done    it ;    but    the 

beauteous  beast 
Scared  by  the  noise  upstarted  at  our 

feet, 
And  like  a  silver  shadow  slipt  away 
Thro'    the    dim    land ;    and    all    day 

long  we  rode 
Thro'  the  dim  land  against  a  rushing 

\\  ind, 
That  glorious  roundel  echoing  in  our 

ears, 
And  chased  the  flashes  of  his  golden 

horns 
Until  they  vanish'd  by  the  fairy  well 
That   laughs   at   iron  —  as  our   war- 
riors did  — 
Where   children   cast   their   pins   and 

nails,  and  cry, 
Laugh,    little    well!"    but    tech    it 

with  a  suord, 
It    buzzes    fiercely    round    the    point, 

and  there 
We  lost  him:     such  a  noble  song  was 

that. 
Hut,  Vivien,  when  you  sang  me  that 

sweet  rhyme, 
I    felt  as  tho'  you  knew  this  cursed 

charm, 
Were  proving  it  on  me,  and  that   I 

lay 
And   felt   them   slowly   ebbing,  name 

and   fame." 


And      Vivien      answer'd      smiling 

mournfully: 
"  O  mine  have  cbb'd  away  for  ever- 

m.ore, 
And   all    thro'   following  you   to  this 

wild   wood, 


Because   I   saw   you   sad,   to  comfort 

you. 
Lo,  now,  what  hearts  have  men!  they 

never  mount 
As    high    as    woman    in    her    sclHess 

mood. 
And      touching     fame,     howc'er     ye 

scorn   my   song. 
Take     one    verse     more  —  the     lady 

speaks  it  —  this : 

"  '  My     name,     once     mine,     now 

thine,  is  closelier  mine, 
For  fame,  could  fame  be  mine,  that 

fame  were  thine. 
And    shame,    could    shame    be    thine, 

that  shame  were  mine. 
So  trust  me  not  at  all  or  all  in  all.' 

"Says  she  not  well?  and   there  is 

more  —  this   rhyme 
Is  like  the  fair  pearl-necklace  of  the 

Queen, 
That  burst  in  dancing,  and  the  pearls 

were  spilt; 
Some     lost,     some    stolen,     soti.e     as 

relics  kept. 
But   nevermore   the   same   two  sister 

pearls 
Ilan   down   the  silken   thread   to   kiss 

each  other 
On   her   white   neck  —  so   Is   it   with 

this  rhyme: 
It  lives  dispersedly  in  many  hands, 
And    every    minstrel    sings    it    dittcr- 

ently : 
Yet  is  there  one  true  line,  the  pearl 

of   pearls: 
Man  dreams  of  Fame  while  woman 

wakes   to   love.' 
Yea!    Love,    tho'    Love   were   of   the 

grossest,  carves 
A  portion    from    the    solid    present, 

eats 
And    uses,    careless   of   the   rest;   but 

Fame, 
i  le     Fame     that     follows    death     is 

nothing  to  us; 


mm 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


279 


And  what  is  Fame  in  life  but  half- 

disfanif, 
And   tountcrchanged    with   darkness? 

ye  yourself 
Know     well     that     Envy    calls    you 

Devil's  son, 
And  since  ye  seem  the  Master  of  all 

Art, 
They  fain  would  make  you  Master  of 

all  vice." 

And    Merlin    lock'd    his    hand    in 

hers  and  said, 
I    once    was    looking    for    a    maf;ic 

weed, 
And   found  a  fair  young  squire  who 

sat    alone, 
Had  carved  himself  a  ktiiglitly  shield 

of  wood. 
And  then  was  painting  on  it  fancied 

arms, 
Azure,  an  Eagle  rising  or,  the  Sun 
In  dexter  chief;  the  scroll,  '  I  follow 

fame.' 
And   speaking  not,   but  leaning  over 

him, 
I  took  his  brush  and  blotted  out  the 

bird, 
And  made  a  Gardener  putting  in   a 

giaff, 
Wit'     this    for    motto,    '  Rather    use 

ti  in   fame.' 
^  ou    t   ould    have    seen    him    blush; 

bui   afterwards 
He     made     a    stalwart     knight.     () 

Vivier., 
For  you,  methinks  you  think  you  love 

me  well ; 
For  me,  I   love  you  somewhat ;  rest : 

and  Love 
Should   have  some   rest  and   pleasure 

in    himself, 
Not  ever  be  too  curious  for  a  boon, 
Too  prurient  for  a  proof  against  the 

grain 
Of  him   ye  say  ye   love:   but   Fame 

with  men, 


Being    but    ampler    means    to    serve 

mankind. 
Should  have  small  rest  or  pleasure  in 

herself. 
Hut    work    as    vassal    to    the    i.>.ger 

love, 
That  dwarfs  the  petty  love  of  one  to 

one. 
Use  gave  me  Fame  at  first,  and  Fame 

again 
Increasing   gave    me   use.     I^i,    there 

my   boon  ! 
What    other?     for    men    sought    to 

prove  me  vile, 
Because     I     fain     had     given     them 

greater  wits: 
And   then   did   Envy  call  me   Devil's 

son : 
The  sick,  weak  beast  seeking  to  help 

herself 
By  striking  at  her  better,  miss'd,  and 

brought 
Her   own    claw    i)ack,    and    wounded 

her  own  heart. 
Sweet  were  the  days  when   I   was  all 

unknown. 
But    when    my    name    was    lifted    up, 

ttie  storm 
Brake  on   the  mountain   and   I   cared 

not  for  it. 
Right    well    know     I    that    Fame    is 

half-disfame, 
^  et    needs    must     w  ork    my    work. 

That  other  fame. 
To  one  at  least,  who  hath  not  chil- 
dren,   vague. 
The  cackle  of  the  unborn  about  the 

grave, 
I    cared    not    for    it:    a   single    misty 

star, 
Which    is    the    second    in    a    line    of 

stars 
That  seem  a  sword  beneath  a  belt  of 

three, 
I  never  gazed  upon  it  but  I  dreamt 
Of    some    vast    charm    concluded    in 

that  star 


28o 


IDVI.I.S  OF  nil';  KING 


To  niakf  famr  nothini;.     Wlii-ri-turr, 

it   1   fi-ar, 
Givinp    you    pouiT    upmi     me    thro 

this  cliariii, 
That  you  tuinlit  play  mo  ialscly,  liav- 

iiiji   powrr, 
Howfvrr  well   ye   think   yp   htvp   nif 

now 
(As  sons  of  kinjjs  hiving  in  pupilaco 
Have    turn'ii    to    tyrant>    when    tlu) 

time   t.i   power) 
I    rathrr    dread    tlie    Ujss  oi'   use   than 

fame ; 
If    you  —  and     not     so     mui-'h     from 

u  ic'kedness, 
As   some   wild    turn   of   ati^er,    or    a 

mofxl 
Of  overstrain'd  affection,   it  ma\    be, 
To  keep  me  all   to  yoar  oun  self, — 

or  else 
A    sudden    spurt    of    woman's    jeal- 
ousy,— 
Should   try  this  charm   on  whom   ye 

say  ye   i(<ve." 

And  Vivien    inswcr'd  smiling  as  in 

wiath, 
"Have    1    not    sworn?     I    am    not 

trusted.     Good ! 
Well,  hide  it,  hide  it;  I  shall  find  it 

out ; 
And  being  found  take  heed  of  Vivien. 
A  woman  and  not  trusted,  doubtless 

I 
Might     feel     some    sudden     turn     of 

anger  born 
Of    your    misfaith;    and    your    fine 

epithet 
Is  accurate,  too,  for  this  full  love  of 

mine 
Without    the    full    heart    back    may 

merit  well 
Your  term  of  overstrain'd.     So  used 

as  I, 
My  daily  wonder  is,  I  love  at  all. 
And  as  to  woman's  jealousy,  O  why 

not? 
O  to  what  end,  except  a  jealous  one, 


.And  one  to  make  me  jealous  if  I 
l,.\e. 

\^'a^  thi^  fair  charm  invented  by 
>.iiirM'lt:' 

I  well  believe  that  all  about  this 
\\  iirld 

Ye  cage  a  buxom  captive  here  and 
there. 

Closed  in  the  four  walU  ot  a  hollow 
tiiwer 

}■  rom  u  hich  is  no  escape  for  ever- 
more. " 

Then    the    great    Master    merrily 

ansMiTii   her: 
"  Full   many   a   love   in   loving  youth 

\vas   mine; 
I  needed  then  no  charm  to  keep  them 

mine 
But   youth   and    love;   and    that    full 

heart  of  yours 
WTiereof  ye  praitle,  may  now  assure 

you  mine; 
So   live   uncharm'd.     For   those   who 

wrought  it  first. 
The   wrist   is  parted    from   the   hand 

that  waved. 
The     feet     unmortised     from     their 

ankle-b' nes 
Who  paced  it,  ages  back :  but  will  ye 

hear 
The   legend   as  in   guerdon   for  your 

rhyme  ? 

"  There  lived   a  king  in   the  most 

K.astern   East, 
Less   old   than    I,   yet   older,    for   my 

blood 
Hath  earnest  in   it  of  far  springs  to 

be. 
A  tawny  pirate  anchor'd  in  his  port, 
Whose    bark    had    plunder'd    twenty 

nameless  isles; 
And  passing  one,  at  the  high  peep  of 

dawn, 
He    saw    two    cities    in    a    thousand 

boats 
All  fighting  for  a  woman  .in  the  sea. 


MLRLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


zHi 


And   pushing   his  black   tratt  among     A  Ica^'ue  of  niounrairi  full  of  ;;olilrn 
tliciii   all,  minrs, 

lie      litihtly      scatter'.!      theirs      ;uid      A  proviiuc  witli  a  hundrcl  iiulc;,  of 
brought  hrr  otf,  coast, 

With  loss  ot  half  his  proplc  arrow-      A    palate    and    a    prirucss,    all     tor 
slain;  him: 

A    maid    so    smooth,    so    white,    so      Uut  on  all  those  who  tried  and  fail'd, 
wonderful,  the    King 

They    said    a    li^ht    t  :mc    from    her      I'ronoumed  a  dismal  sentence,  mean- 
when  she  moved:  ing  by  it 

And  since  the  pirate  would  not  yield      To  keep  the  list  low  and   pretenders 
her   up,  back, 

The     King     impaled     him     fur     his      Or    like    a    king,    not    to    be    trifled 
piracy;  with  — 

Then    made    her    Uueen:    but    those      'llieir    heads    should    mr)lder   on    the 
isle-nurtured  e\es  city  gates. 

Waged   such    unwilling   tho'   success-     And   many   tried   and    fail'd,   because 
ful  uar  the  charm 

On    all    the    youth,     they    sicken'd;      Of  nature  in  her  overbore  their  o«  n : 
councils   thinn'd, 

And    armies   waned,    for   magnet-like 
slic  drew 

The    rustiest    iron    of    old    lighters' 
hearts ; 

And    beasts    themselves    would    wor- 
ship ;   camels   knelt 

Unbidden,   and   the  brutes  of  moun- 
tain  back 

That   carry    kings   in    castles,    Dow'd 
black  l;nees 


And   many   a   wizard    brow    bleach'd 

on  the  walU: 
And  many  weeks  a  troop  of  carrion 

croH  s 
Hung  like  a  cloud  above  the  gateway 

towers." 

And  Vivien  breaking  in  upon  him, 
said : 
"  I    sit   and    gather   honey ;   yet,    me- 

thinks, 


Of     homage,      ringing     with      their      Thy    tongue   has   tript    a   little:    ask 


serpent  hands, 


thvself. 


To  make  her  smile,  her  golden  ankle-      The  lady  never  made  unuilling  war 


What  'Aonder,  being  jealous,  that  he 

sent 
His  horns  of  proclamation  out  thro' 

all 
The    hundred    under-kingdoms    that 

he  svvay'd 
To  find   a  wizard   who  might   teach 

the  King 
Some   charm,    which    being   wrought 

upon    the  Queen 


With    those   fine    eyes:   she    had    her 

pleasure  in  it, 
And  made  her  good  man  jealous  with 

good  cause. 
And    lived    there    neither    dame   nor 

damsel  then 
Wroth    at    a    lover's    loss?    were    all 

as  tame, 
I  mean,  as  noble,  as  their  Queen  was 

fair? 
Not  one  to  flirt  a  venom  at  her  eyes. 


Might  keep  her  all  his  own:  to  such  Or  pinch  a  murderous  dust  into  her 

a  one  dr'nk, 

He  promised  more  than  ever  king  has  Or  make  her  paler  with  a   poison'd 

given,  rose? 


282 


lUVLI.S  OF    Ilih   KlNCi 


Well,   those  utTi'  not  (uir  ilav>:  but 

(lid   they   timi 
A  wizaril  '       1  ill  iiu,  wun  lie  liltc  to 

thoe?  " 

She    ceaseii,    and    made    hor    lithe 

arm    round    his    iin.lt 
'l"ightcn,  and  then  drt-vs   hack,  and  let 

her  ryes 
Speak   for   her.  glowing  on   him,   like 

a  hridc's 
On  her  new   lord,  her  own,  the  first 

of  men. 

He  ansvver'd  laughing,  "  Nay,  not 

like  to  me. 
At  last  they   found  —  his  foragers  for 

charms  — 
A    little    glassy-headed    hairless    man. 
Who  lived   alone   in   a  great   wild  on 

grass ; 
Read  hut  one  book,  ami  ever  readin.^ 

grew 
So  grated  down  and  tiled  away  with 

thought. 
So    lean    his    eyes    were    monstrous; 

while  the  skin 
Clung  hut   to  crate  and  basket.   libs 

anil    spine. 
And   ^^ince   he   kept   his  mind    on   one 

Sole  aim. 
Nor    ever    to\ich'd    fierce    wine,    nor 

tasted    flesh, 
Nor  oun'd  a  sensual  wish,  to  him  the 

wall 
That    sunders    ghosts    and    shadow- 
casting  men 
Became  a  crystal,   and  he  saw   them 

thro'  it. 
And    heard    their    voices    talk    behind 

the  wall, 
And    learnt    their    elemental    secrets, 

powers 
And     forces;    often     o'er    the     sun's 

bright  eye 
Drew    the    vast    eyelid    of    an    inky 

cloud, 


And  lash'd  it  at  the  base  with  slant- 
ing storm  ; 
( )r  in   the  noon  of  mist  and  driving 

r.iin. 
When  the  lake  whiten'd  and  the  pine- 

v\  ooil    roar'd, 
.'\nd    tlic    cairn'd    mountain    v\as    a 

shadow,  sunn'il 
The  world   to  peace  again  :  here  was 

the  man. 
And  so  by   force  they  dragg'd  him   to 

the    King. 
And    then    he    taught    the    King    to 

charm  the  (Jueen 
In  such-wise,   that   no  man  could   sec 

her   more, 
.Nor    saw    she    save    the    King,    who 

w  rcught  the   charm. 
Coming   and    going,    and    she    lay   as 

dead. 
And  lost  all  use  of  life:  but  when  the 

King 
.M.ide     proffer     of     the     league     of 

golden    mines. 
The   province   with    a   hundred   miles 

of  coast, 
Tlie  palace  and  the  princess,  that  old 

man 
\V'ent  b.ick  to  his  old  wild,  and  lived 

on  grass. 
And    vanished,    and    his    book    came 

down   to  me." 


And      Vivien      answer'd      smiling 

saucily : 
"Ye    have    the    book:    the    charm    is 

written   in   it: 
Ciood:      take    my    counsel:     let    me 

know  it  at  once : 
For    keep    it    like    a    puzzle    chest    in 

chest, 
With  each  chest  lock'd  and  padlock'd 

thirr\-lold, 
And   whelm   all    thi     beneath   as  vast 

a  mound 
As   after   a    furious   battle    turfs   the 

slain 


iaMa*i 


MKIU.IN  AND  VIVIIvN 


2«.? 


Dili,    iiui    any 


On  somr  uilil  ilmMi  .dxjvc  ilir  u  imly 

Ji-cp, 
1    yet    >li(iiii(l    strike    upni,    ,i    siiiliicn 

To  din,  piiL,  (ipcii,  linil  and   read   llir 

tliarni : 
llii-n,  it  I  triVit  it,  will)  should  blame 

nic   tluii .' 

And  sinilitu;  as  a  master  iinilis  at 
one 

That    is   not   of   liis  si.lii 
.■L'liool 

But     that     where     blind     and     nakcil 
Innnrancr 

Delivers     brawliii'^     judj;ments,     un- 
ashamed, 

On    all    thin^;s    all    da>    lonj;,    he   an- 
s\\er'd  her : 

"  Thou   read  the  book,   ni>    pretty 

V'iv  icn ! 
O  aye,  it  is  but  twenty  pa^jes  Un\g, 
But     every     page     havinj;    an     ample 

niarne, 
And    every    marge    enelosiiij;    in    the 

midst 
A   square   of   text   that    looks   a   little 

blot, 
The  text  no  larj;er  than  the  limbs  of 

fleas ; 
And    every    square   of    text    an    awful 

charm. 
Writ    in    a    lanyuafje    that    has    Um^ 

gone  by. 
So  long,   that   mountains   liave  arisen 

since 
With    cities    on    their    flanks  —  thou 

read   the   book ! 
And    every    margin    scribbled,    crost, 

and  cramm'd 
With     comment,     densest     condensa- 
tion, hard 
To  mind  and  eye ;  but  the  long  sleep- 
less nights 
Of  my  long  life  have  made  it  easy  to 

me. 


.And     none    lan     rr.id     the     text,     iiiit 

r\en    1  ; 
And  none  t.in   read   the  (oinmrnt   but 

iii\sell  ; 
And    in   the   eommrnt    did    1    (ind    the 

iharm. 
( ),    the    results    are    simple;    a    mere 

child 
Might    use    It    to    the    harm    of    any- 
one, 
Aiui     never    could     undo    it;    a^k     no 

more ; 
I-iir    tho'    you    should    not    prove    it 

upon  me, 
Mut     keep     that     oath     ye    sv*'are,     ye 

might,   perchance. 
Assay    it    on    someone    of    the    Table 

Round, 
.And  all  been  -e  ye  dream  they  babble 

of  you." 

And     X'ivien,     frowning     in     true 

anger,   said: 
"  What  dare  the  full-fed   liars  say  of 

me  ? 
J  liry    ride    abroad    redressing   human 

v\  rongs! 
They  sit  w.th  !:nife  in  meat  and  wine 

in   horn! 
Tlify  bound  to  holy  vows  of  chastity! 
Were    I   not  woman,    I   could   tell   a 

tale, 
liut     ycu     are     man,     you     well     can 

understand 
The  shame   that  cannot   be   explain'd 

for  shame. 
Not    one    of    all     the    drove    should 

touch   me  ;  swine  !  " 

Then  answer'd  Merlin  careless  of 

iier   words: 
"  \'ou    breathe    but    accusation    vast 

and   vague. 
Spleen-born,    I    think,    and    proofless. 

If  ye  know, 
Set  up  the  charge  ye  know,  to  stand 

or  fall!" 


284 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And  X'ivicn  answer'd  frowninj; 
« rathtully : 

"  0  aye,  what  say  yc  to  Sir  Valence, 
him 

Whose  kinsman  left  him  watcher 
o'er  his  wife 

And  two  fair  babes,  and  went  to  dis- 
tant lands; 

Was  one  year  pone,  and  on  return- 
in;;   found 

Not  two  but  three?  there  lay  'he 
recklinil,  one 

But  one  hour  old !  What  said  the 
happy  sire? 

A  seven-months'  babe  had  been  a 
truer  gift. 

Those  twelve  sweet  moons  confused 
his  fatherhood." 


Then     answer'd     Merlin,     "  Nay, 

I   know  the  tale. 
Sir  Valence  wedded  with  an  outland 

dame : 
Some   cause   had    kept    him    sunder'd 

from  his  wife, 
(^ne    child    they    had:    it    lived    with 

her:  she  died : 
His    ki.  ^!:  an    traveling   on    his    own 

alia  it 
Was   chaiged    by    Valence    to    bring 

home  the  child. 
He  brought,  not  found  it  therefore: 

take  the  truth." 


"  O  aye,"  said  Vivien,  "  overtrue  -^^ 
tale. 

What  say  ye  then  to  s^veet  Sir  Sagra- 
more. 

That  ardent  man?  'To  pluck  the 
flower  in  season,' 

So  says  the  song,  '  I  trow  it  is  no 
treason.' 

0  Master,  siiall  we  call  him  over- 
quick 

To  crop  his  own  sweet  rose  before 
the  liour  ?  " 


And     Merlin     answer'd,     "  Over- 
quick  art   thou 
To  catch  a  loatiily  plume  fall'n  from 

the    \\  ing 
Of   that    foul    bird    of   rapine   whose 

whole   prey 
Is     man's     good     name:     he     never 

w  rong'd  his  bride. 
I  know  the  tale.     An  angry  gust  of 

wind 
Puff'd     out     his     torch     among     the 

m\riaii-i'oom'd 
And    man\  -corridor'd    complexities 
Of  Arthur's   palace:    then    lie    found 

a  door. 
And     darkling     felt    the    sculptured 

ornament 
That    wreathcn    round     it    made    it 

seem  his  own ; 
And  wearied  out  made  for  the  couch 

and  slept, 
A    stainless    man    beside    a    stainless 

maid  ; 
And  either  slept,  nor  knew  of  other 

there; 
Til!  the  high  dawn  piercing  the  royal 

rose 
In      Arthur's     casement      glimmer'd 

chastely  down, 
Blushing    upon    them    bhishing,    and 

at  once 
Me  rose  without  a  word  and  parted 

from  her: 
But  when  the  thing  was  blazed  about 

the  court, 
Th?     brute     world     howling     forced 

them    into  bonds. 
And   as    it   chanced    they   are   happy, 

being  pure." 

"  O  aye,"  said  Vivien,  "  that  were 

likely,  too. 
What  say  ye  then  to  fair  Sir  Perci- 

vale 
And   of   the  horrid    foulness   that   he 

wrought, 
The  saintly  youth,  the  spotless  lamb 

of  Christ, 


■HiMilf 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


285 


Or  some  black  wether  of  ft.  Satan's 
fold. 

What,  in  the  precincts  of  the  chapel- 
yard, 

Among  the  knightly  brasses  of  the 
graves, 

And  by  the  cold  Hie  Jacets  of  the 
dead!  " 

And    Merlin    ansuer'd    careless  of 

her  charge, 
"A  sober  man  is  Percivale  and  pure; 
But  once   in    life   wa^   fiuster'd    with 

new  wine. 
Then     paced     for     coolness     in     the 

chapel-yartl ; 
Where  one  of   Satan's  shepherdesses 

caught 
And   meant   to  stamp   him   with  her 

master's  mark  ; 
And  that  he  sinned  is  not  believable; 
For,  loun.  upon  his  face!  —  but  if  he 

sinn'd. 
The  sin  that  practise  burns  into  the 

blood, 
And    not    the   one    dark   hour   which 

brings  remorse, 
Will   brand   us,  after,  of  whose  fold 

we  be: 
Or    else    were    he,    the    holy    king, 

\\  hose  hymns 
Are    cliantcd    in    the    minster,    worse 

than  all. 
But    is   your   spleen    froth 'd    out,    or 

have  ye  more?  " 

And     Vivien     answcr'd     frov\ning 

yet  in  vvath: 
"  O  aye;  what  say  ye  to  Sir  Lancelot, 

friend 
Ttaitor  or  true?  that  commerce  with 

the  Queen, 
I  ask  you,  is  it  clamor'd  by  th-:  child, 
Or   whisper'd    in    the   corner.'   do    \e 

know  it?  " 

To     wliich     he     answer'd     sadly, 
"  ^'ea,  I  know  it. 


Sir    Lancelot    went    ambassador,    at 

tirst. 
To  fetch   her,   and   s!ie   watch  d    him 

from  her  walls. 
A  rumor  runs,  she  took  him  for  the 

King, 
So  fixt  her   fancy  on   him:   let   them 

be. 
But   have  ye   no   one  word   of   loyal 

prai>e 
For     Arthur,     blameless     King     and 

stainless  man  ?  " 

She    answer'd    with    a    low    and 

chuckling  laugh : 
"  Man!  is  he  man  at  all,  who  knows 

and   winks? 
Sees  what  his  fair  bride  is  and  does, 

and  winks  ? 
By   which   the    good   King   means   to 

blind   himself. 
And  blinds  himself  and  all  the  Table 

Round 
To  all   the  foulness  that  they  work. 

Myself 
Could    call    him     (were    it    not    for 

womanhood ) 
The  pretty,  popular  name  such  man- 
hood earns, 
Could  call  him  the  main  cause  of  all 

their  crime ; 
Yea,    were    he    not    crown'd    King, 

coward,  and  fool." 

Then  Merlin  to  his  own  heart, 
loathing,  said : 

"O  true  and  tender!  O  my  liege 
and  King! 

O  selHess  man  and  stainless  gentle- 
man. 

Who  wouldst  against  thine  own  eye- 
witness fain 

Have  all  men  true  and  leal,  all 
women  pure; 

How,  in  the  mouths  of  base  interpre- 
ters, 

From   over-fineness  not  intelligible 


286 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


To  things  with  every  sense   as   false 

and  loul 
As    the   poach'd    iiltli    that    Hoods   the 

middle  street, 
Is  thy  white  hlamelessness  accounted 

blame  1  " 

But  Vivien,  deeming  Merlin  over- 
borne 

By  instance,  recommenced,  and  let 
her  tonj^ue 

Rage  like  a  tire  among  the  noblest 
names, 

Polluting,  and  imputing  her  \\h(jle 
self, 

Defaming  and   defacing,   till   she   left 

Not  even  Lancelot  brave,  nor  Gala- 
had clean. 

Her   words   had    issue   other    than 

she  w  ill'd. 
He     dragg'd     his     eyebrow     bushes 

d(jv\n,  and  made 
A   snowy    penthouse    for    his    hollow 

eyes. 
And  mutter'd   in  himself,   "  Tell   her 

the  charm! 
So,  if  she  had  it,  would  she  rail  on 

me 
To  snare  the  next,  and  if  she  have  it 

not 
So  will  she  rail.     \Vhat  did  the  wan- 
ton say  ? 
'  Not  mount  as  high  ;  '  we  scarce  can 

sink   IS  low. 
For  men   at   most   differ   as    Heaven 

and  earth. 
But     women,     worst     and     best,     as 

Heaven   and    Hell. 
I      know      the     Table      Round,     my 

friends  of  old  ; 
All   brave,   and   man>-   generous,   and 

some   chaste. 
She  cloaks  the  scar  of  some   repulse 

with  lies; 
1   well   believe  sJie  tempted  them  and 

fail'd, 


Being  so   bitter:   for   fine   plots   may 

fail, 
Tho'  harlots  paint  their  talk  as  well 

as  face 
With  colors  of  the  heart  that  arc  not 

theirs. 
I  will  not  let  her  know:  nine  tithes 

of  times 
Face-flatterer    and    backbiter   are    the 

same. 
And  they,  sweet  soul,   that  most  im- 
pute  a  crime 
Are  pronest  to  it,  and  impute  them- 

selvi   , 
Wantif       the   mental   range ;   or   low 

desire 
Not  to  feel  lowest  makes  them  level 

all; 
Yea,   they  would   pare   the  mountain 

to  the  plain, 
To  leave  an  equal   baseness;   and   in 

this 
Are   harlots   like   the   crowd,    that   if 

they  hnd 
Some  stain  or  blemish  in  a  name  of 

note, 
Not  grieving  that   their  greatest  are 

so  small. 
Inflate   themselves   with   some   insane 

delight, 
And  judge  all  nature   from  her  feet 

of  clay, 
Without  the  will   to   lift   their  eyes, 

and  see 
Her  godlike  head  crown'd  w  ith  spir- 
itual  tire, 
And    touching   other    \\  orlds.     I    am 

weary  of  her." 

He  spoke  in  words  part  heard,  in 

whispers   part, 
Half-sul?ocated   in   the  hoar\-   fell 
And    many-winter'd    fleece    of    throat 

and  chin. 
But   Vivien,    gathering   somewhat   of 

his  mood. 
And      hearing      "  harlot  "      niutter'd 

twice  or  thrice, 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


287 


Leapt    from    her   session    on   his   lap,  Together  with  a  wailing  shriek,  and 

an(i   sto    '  said: 

Stiff    as    a    viper    frozen;    loathsome  "  Stabb'd    througli    the   heart's   atfec- 

5'H'it,  tions  to  the  heart! 

How   from   the   rosy  lips  of  life  and  Seethed  like  the  kid  in  its  own  moth- 

'*»f.  er's  milk! 

Flash'd  the  bare-grinning  skeleton  of  KiU'd  with  a  word  worse  than  a  life 

.death!  of  blows! 

White  was  I.er  cheek;  sharp  breaths  I   thought  that  he  was  gentle,   being 

of  anger  putf'd  great: 

Her  fairy  nostril  out;  her  hand  half-  O  God,   that  I  had  loved  a  sn.illc. 

clenchM  nian ! 

Went    faltering   sideways   downward  I  should  have  found  in  him  a  greater 

to  her  belt,  heart. 

And   feeling;   had   she   found   a   dag-  O,  I,  that  flattering  my  true  passion. 

ger  there  saw 

(For  in  a  wink  the  false  love  turns  The    knights,    the    court,    the    King, 

to  tiafc)  dark,  in  your  light. 

She  would  have  stabb'd  him;  but  she  Who  loved  to  make  men  darker  than 

found  it  not:  they  are. 

His  eye  was  calm,  and  suddenly  she  Because  of  that  high  pleasure  which 

took  I  iiad 

To     bitter     weeping     like     a     beaten  To  seat  you  sole  upon  my  pedestal 

'^"'''^>  <  )f    worship  —  I    am    answer'd,    and 

A    long,    long   weeping,    not    consol-  henceforth 

3ble.  The   course    of    life    that    seem'd    so 

1  hen     her    false    voice    made    way,  flou  cry  to  me 

broken  with  sobs:  With  you  for  guide  and  master,  only 

you. 

"  O  crueller  than  was  ever  told  in  Becomes  the  sea-clif?  pathway  broken 

tale,          _  short. 

Or      sung      in      song!     O      vainly  And  ending  in  a  ruin  —  nothing  left, 

lavish'd  love!  But  into  some  low  cave  to  crawl,  and 

O  cruel,   th"'e  was  nothing  wild  or  there, 

strange. 
Or     seeming     shameful  —  for     what 

shame  in  love. 
So    love   be    true,    and    not    as   yours 

is  —  nothing 
Poor  Vivien  had  not  done  to  win  his 

trust 
Who  call'd    her  what   he   call'd   her 

—  all  her  crime, 
All  —  all  —  the    wish    to   prove    him 

wholly   hers." 


If  the  wolf  spare  me,  weep  my  life 

away, 
Kill'd     with     inutterable     unkindli- 

ness." 


She   paused,   she   turn'd   away,   she 
hung  her  head. 
The    snake    of    gold    slid    from    her 

hair,  the  braid 
Slipt    and    'incoil'd    itself,    she    wept 
afresh. 

She  mused  a  little,  and  then  clapt      And    the    dark    wood    grew    darker 
her  hands  toward  the  storm 


j88 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


In    silence,    uhilc    his    anger    slowly 

died 
Within    him,   till   he   let   his   wisdom 

go 
For  ease  of  heart,  and  half  believed 

her  true: 
Call'd   her   to  shelter   in   the   hollow 

oak, 
"  Come    from    the   storm,"    and   hav- 
ing no  reply. 
Gazed   at   the  heaving  shoulder,  and 

the   face 
Ha/ul-hidden,  as  for  utmost  grief  or 

shame ; 
Then    thrice    essay'd,    by    tenderest- 

touching  terms, 
To  sleek   her  ruffled   pea'  .nind, 

in  vain. 
At  last  she  let  herself  be  conqLjr'd 

by  him, 
And  as  the  cageling  newly  flown  re- 
turns. 
The    seeming-injured    simple-hearted 

thing 
Came  to  her  old  perch  back,  and  set- 
tled there. 
There     while     she     sat,     half-falling 

from  his  knees. 
Half-nestled    at    his   heart,    and   since 

he  saw 
The  slow  tear  creep  from  her  closed 

eyelid  yet. 
About  her,  more  in  kindness  than  in 

love. 
The   gentle  wizard    cast   a   shielding 

arm. 
But  she  dislink'd  herself  at  once  and 

rost, 
Her    arms    upon    her    breast    across, 

and   stood, 
A      virtuous      gentlewoman      deeply 

wrong'd. 
Upright     and     flush'd     before     him: 

then  she  said : 


"  There  must  be  now  no  passages 

(if  love 


Betu  ixt  us  twain  luncei()r\\ard  ever- 
more ; 
Since,    if    I    be    what    1    am    grossly 

call'd. 
What  should  be  granteii  uluch  your 

ou  n  gross  heart 
Would    reckon     worth    tlic    taking? 

I   \\  ill  go. 
In  truth,  bu'  one  r'ling  now  —  better 

have   died 
Thrice    than    have    ask'd    it    once  — 

could  make  me  stay  — 
That  proof  of  trust  —  so  often  ask'd 

in  vain  I 
How  justly,   after  that  vile  term  of 

\ours, 
I   find    with   grief!     I   might  believe 

you  then, 
Who  knows?  once  more.     Lo!  what 

was  once  to  me 
Mere  matter  of  the  fancy,  now  hath 

grown 
The  vast  necessity  of  heart  and  life. 
Farewell;  think  gently  of  me,   for  I 

fear 
My  fate  or  folly,  passing  gayer  youth 
For  one  so  old,  must  be  to  love  thee 

still. 
But    ere    I    leave    thee    let   me   swear 

once  more 
That  if  I  schemed  against  thy  peace 

in  this. 
May   yon   just   heaven,   that   darkens 

o'er  me,  send 
One    flash,    that,    missing    all    things 

else,  may  make 
My  scheming  brain  a  cinder,  if  I  lie. 

Scarce   had    she   leased,    when    out 

of  heaven  a  oolt 
(For  now  the  storm  was  close  above 

them)   struck. 
Furrowing  a  gia.it  oak,  and  javelin- 

ing 
AVith   darted   spikes  and   splinters  of 

the  uooil 
T"'ie   dark   earth    round.     He    raised 

his  eves  and  saw 


riHl 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 


289 


The     trre     that     shone     wliite-listed 

thri/'  the  gloom. 
li'A     Vivien,     fearing     heaven     had 

heard  her  oath, 
And    dazzled    by    the    livid-flickering 

fork, 
And    deafen'd   with    the    stammering 

cracks  and  claps 
That   foliovv'd,   flying  back   and  cry- 
ing out, 
"  O  Merlin,  tho'  you  do  not  love  me, 

save. 
Yet   save    me!"    clun;:    to    him    and 

h'jgg'd  him  close; 
And  caU'.i  him  dear  protector  in  her 

fright. 
Nor   yet    forgot   her   practise    In    her 

fright. 
But    wrought    upon    his    mood    and 

hugg'd   him  close. 
The  pale  blood  of  the  wizard  at  her 

touch 
Took     gayer    colors,     like    an     opal 

warm'd. 
She  bla.ned   herself  for  telling  hear- 
say talcs: 
She    shook    from    fear,    and    for    her 

fault  she  wept 
Of    petulancy;    she    call'd    him    lord 

and   liege, 
Her  seer,  her  bard,  her  silver  star  of 

eve, 
Her  God,   her  Merlin,   the  one   pas- 
sionate love 
Of    her   whole    life;   anil   ever   over- 
head 
Bcllow'd  the  tempest,  and  the  lotten 

branch 
Snapt    in    the    rushing   of    the    river- 
rain 
Above  them ;  and  in  change  of  glare 

and  gloom 
Her   eyes    and   neck   glittering   went 

and  came ; 
Till  now  the  storm,  its  burst  of  pas- 
sion spent. 
Moaning    and    calling   out    of    other 
lands, 


Had  left  the  ravaged  woodland  yet 
once  more 

'lo  peace;  and  what  should  not  have 
been  had  been. 

For  Merlin,  overtalk'd  and  over- 
worn. 

Had  yielded,  told  her  all  the  charm, 
and  slept. 

Ftien,    in    one    moment,    she    put 

forth  the  charm 
Of     woven     paces     and     of     waving 

hands, 
And  in  the  hollow  oak  he  lay  as  dead, 
And   lost   to   life  and   use  and   name 

and  fame. 

Then    crying.    "  I    have    made    his 

glory  mine," 
And   shrieking   out,    "O    fool!"    the 

harlot   leapt 
Adown    the    forest,    and    the    thicket 

closed 
Behind    her,    and    the    forest    echo'd 

"  fool." 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 

Elaine  the  fair,  Elaine  the  loveable, 

Elaine,  the  lily  maid  of  Astolat, 

High  in  her  chamber  up  a  tower  to 
the  east 

Guarded  the  sacred  shield  of  Lance- 
lot; 

Which  first  she  placed  wliere  morn- 
ing's earliest  ray 

Might  strike  it,  and  awake  her  with 
the  gleam ; 

Then  fearing  rust  or  sollure  fashion'd 
for  it 

A  case  of  silk,  and  braided  there- 
upon 

All  the  devices  hla/nn'd  on  the  shield 

In  their  own  tinct,  and  added,  of  her 
wir, 

A  border  fu  ..easy  of  branch  and 
flower. 


290 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KL\G 


And   yellow-throateil   nestling   in    the 

nest, 
Nor  rested  thus  content,  hut  day  by 

day. 
Leavinj;     her     household     and     good 

father,  climb'd 
That    eastern    tower,    and    entering 

barr'd  her  door, 
Stript    off    the    case,    and    read    the 

naked  shield, 
Now  (zuess'd  a  hidden  meaning  in  his 

arms, 
Now   made  a  pretty  history   to  her- 
self 
Of  every  dint  a  sword  had  beaten  in 

it. 
And  every  scratch  a  lance  had  made 

upon   it. 
Conjecturing  whc-n   and   where;   this 

cut  is  fresh ; 
That  ten  years  back;  this  dealt  him 

at  Caerlyle ; 
That  at  Caerleon  ;  this  at  C:  ■'lelot: 
And  ah,  God's  mercy,  what  a  stroke 

was  there! 
And   here   a   thrust   that   might   have 

kill'd,  but  God 
Broke  the  strong  lance,  and  roH'd  his 

enemy  down. 
And  saved  him:  so  she  lived  in  fan- 
tasy. 

How  came  the  lily  maid  by  that 
good  shield 

Of  Lancelot,  she  that  knew  not  ev"n 
his  name? 

He  left  it  with  her,  when  ho  rode  to 
tilt 

For  the  great  diamond  in  the  dia- 
mond jousts, 

Wliich  Arthur  had  ordain'd,  and  by 
that  name 

Had  named  them,  since  a  diamond 
was  the  prize. 

For  Arthur,  long  before  they 
crown'd  him  King, 


Roving  the  trackless  realms  of  Lyon- 

ni-ssc, 
Had  found  a  glen,  gray  boulder  and 

black   tarn. 
A   horror   lived   about   the  tarn,   and 

clave 
Like  its  own  mists  to  all  the  moun- 
tain side: 
For   here   two  brothers,   one   a   king, 

had  met 
And      fought     together;     but      their 

names  were  lost ; 
And   each  had  slain  his  brother  at  a 

blow ; 
And    down    they    fell   and    made   the 

glen   abhorr'd : 
And  there  they  lay  till  all  their  bones 

were  bleach'd, 
And    lichen'd    into    color    with    the 

crags : 
And  he,  that  once  was  king,  had  on 

a  croun 
Of  diamonds,  one  in  front,  and  four 

aside. 
And   Arthur  came,   and   laboring  up 

the  pass. 
All  in  a  misty  moonshine,  unawares 
II   (1   trodden   that  crown'd  skeleton, 

and  the  skull 
Brake  from   the  nape,  and   from  the 

skull  the  crown 
Roll'd  into  light,  and  turning  on  its 

rims 
I'lcd   like  a  glittering  rivulet   to  the 

tarn : 
And     down     the     shingly    scaur     he 

pltmged,  and  caught, 
.And  set   it   on   his  head,   and    in   his 

heart 
Heard  murmurs,  "  Lo,  thou  likewise 

shalt  be  King." 

Thereafter,  when  a  King,  he  had 

the  gems 
Pluck'd  from  the  crown,  and  show'd 

them  to  his  knights, 
Saying,  "  These  jewels,  whereupon   I 

chanced 


riiH 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINh 


Divinely,  are  tlic  kingdom's,  not  the 

King's  — 
For    public    use:    henci-foruard     let 

tticrr   be, 
Once  every  year,  a  joust  for  one  of 

these : 
For  so  by  nine  years'  proof  \\c  needs 

must   learn 
Wliich     is    our    miglitic-st,    and    oui- 

srlvrs  shall   grow 
In  use  of  arms  and  manhood,  till  we 

drive 
The    heathen,    who,    some    say,    shall 

rule  the  land 
Hereafter,      which      Clod       hinder." 

Thus  he  spoke: 
And    eight    years    past,    eight    jousts 

had  been,  and  still 
Had    Lancelot   won   the   diamond    of 

the  year, 
With  purpose  to  present  them  to  the 

Queen, 
When    all    were    won ;    but    meaning 

all  at  once 
To    snare    her    royal    fancy    v\ith    a 

boon 
Worth    half    her    realm,    had    never 
spoken   word. 

Now  for  the  central  diamond  and 

the  last 
And  largest,  Arthur,  holding  then  his 

court 
Hard    on    the    river    nigh    the    place 

which    now 
Is  this  world's  hugest,  let  proclaim  a 

joust 
At  Camelot,  and  when  the  time  drev\ 

nigh 
Spake    (for    she    had    been    sick)    to 

Guinevere, 
■'  Are    you    so    sick,    my    Queen,    you 

cannot  move 
To      these      fair      jousts?"     "Yea, 

lord,"  she  said,  "  ye  know  it."  ' 
"  Then   will   ye   miss,"   he   answer'd, 

"  the  great  deeds 


291 

Of  Lancelot,  and  his  prowess  in  the 

lists, 
A   sight  ye   love   to  look   on."     And 

the   Queen 
Lifted     her     eyes,     and     they     dwelt 

languidly 
On    Lancelot,   where   he   stood    beside 

the  King. 
He  thinking  that  he   read   her  mean- 
ing  there. 
Stay  with  me,  I  am  sick  ;  my  love  is 
more 
Than  many  diamonds,"  yielded;  and 

a  heart 
Love-loyal    to    the   lea.st    wish    of    the 

Queen 
(However  much  he  yearn'd  to  make 

complete 
The  tale  of  diamonds  for  his  destined 

boon) 
Urged  him  to  speak  against  the  truth, 

and  sa\-, 
"  Sjr    King,    mine    ancient    wound    is 

hardly    v\Iiole, 
And   lets  me   from   the  saddle;"  and 

the  King 
(jlanced   first  at  him,   then   her,   and 

went   his   way. 
No    sooner    gone '  than    suddenly    she 
began : 


"To  blame,   my   lord,    Sir   Lance- 
lot, much  to  blame! 
Why  go  ye  not  to  these  fair  jousts? 

the  knights 
Are  half  of  them   our   enemies,   and 

the  crowd 
Will    murmur,    '  Lo,    the    shameless 

ones,  vv  ho  take 
Their  pastime  now  the  trustful  King 

is  gone !  '  " 
Then  Lancelot  vext  at  having  lied  in 

vain : 
"Are  ye  so  wise?  ye  were  not  once 

so  wise. 
My   Queen,    that   summer,    when    ye 

loved  me  first. 


292 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Then  of  thr  crowd  vf  took  no  more 

account 
Than    of   tlie   myriad   cricket   of    the 

nu'ud, 
When    its   own   voice   clings   to   each 

blade  of  grass, 
And    every   voice    is   nothing.     As   to 

knights, 
Them   surely  can    I   silence  with   all 

ease. 
But      now     my      lo>  al      worship      is 

allow'd 
Of  all   men:   many   a   hard,   without 

offense. 
Has  link'd  our  names  together  in  his 

lay, 
Lancelot,     the     flower     of     bravery, 

( juinevere. 
The      pearl      of     beaur>-:      and      oi"- 

knights  at    feast 
Have  pledged  us  in  this  union,  whil' 

the   King 
Would    listen    smiling.      How    then? 

is  there  more? 
Has  Arthur  spoken  aught  ?  or  would 

yourself, 
Now  weary  of  my  service  and  devoir. 
Henceforth    be    truer    to   your    fault- 
less  lord?  " 

She    broke    into    a    little    scornful 

laugh: 
"  Arthur,  my  lord,  Arthur,  the  fault- 
less  King, 
That  passionate  perfection,  mv   goc  ' 

lord  — 
But  who  can  gaze  upon  the  Sun   in 

heaven  ? 
He  never  spake  word  of  reproach  to 

me, 
He    never    had    a    glimpse    of    mine 

untruth. 
He    cares    not    for    me:    only    here 

to-day 
There   gleam'd   a  vague  suspicion   in 

his  eyes: 
Some    meddling    rogue    has   tamper'd 

with  him  —  else 


Rapt  in  this  fancy  of  his  Table 
Round, 

And  swearing  men  to  vows  impossi- 
ble. 

To  inake  them  like  himself:  but, 
friend,  to  me 

He  is  all  fault  who  hatli  no  fault  at 
all: 

I"or  who  loves  me  must  have  a  touch 
of  I'nrth; 

Tlie  low  sun  makes  the  color:   I   am 

)'OUIS, 

Not  Arthur's,   as   ye   know,   save   by 

the  bond. 
And  therefore  hear  my  words:  go  to 

the  joiists: 
The  tiny-trumpeting  gnat  can   break 

our  dream 
When     sweetest ;     aiul     the     vermin 

voices   here 
\Lay  buzz  so  loud  —  we  scorn  them, 

but   they    sting." 

Then  answer'd  Lancelot,  the  chief 
of  knights: 

"  And  w  ith  w  hat  face,  after  my  pre- 
text made. 

Shall  I  appear,  O  Queen,  at  Came- 
lot,  I 

Before  a  King  who  honors  his  own 
word, 

As  if  it  were  his  God's?  " 

"  Yea,"  said  the  Queen, 
"  A  moral  child  w  ithout  t!ie  craft  to 

rule. 
Else  had  he  not  lost  me:  but  listen  to 

me. 
If   I  must  find  you  wit:    ve  hear  it 

said 
That  men  go  dow  n  before  your  spear 

at  a  touch. 
But  knowing  you  are  Lancelot;  your 

great  name. 
This  conquers:  hide   it   therefore:   go 

iinkno\i  n : 
Win!  by  this  kiss  you  will:  and  i  t 

true  King 


iteM 


LANCELOT  AND  ELALNE  293 

A       ''"'^"^>  house 

As  alljor   nlory;    for   to   sp.-ak   him  Thrr.    was     not:     somr     li^ht    jest 

V-     1        *"'    ■   ,           ,,    ,                ,         ,  ainoriK  them   rose 

Yc  knou-^HKht  well,  how  meek  socVr  With    l,,u,ht,T    ciy.n,^    .iou  n    as    ,h.- 

V,      "l  ^""''     1                   :             ,  ^^''''•'^  knight 

breath".             "             '■■      "^    '^'  •'^'^P^"^^'''^'    ^ ''"" :   then    the    I.or,l   of 

^''  tmeif  •"  '"  ''"''"'  """'■  """  "  ^^'f^^J'-'-t  thou,  :ny  .uest,  and 

Ti,.               '        .  •       ,  °y  "'lat  name 

V/mum.'"'"            ""^    "'"  ^"■^•^■^V ''«--•"    the    lips?    for   by    th, 

And     presence     I     nii^^ht     guess    tiiee 

T-L               c-     I          ,  ''"''^  "^   th<jse, 

Then^KOt  St  Lancelot  suddenly  to  After^  the  Km,.,  who  eat  in  Arthur's 

^^"!i  known'""      """    "'"'"^^    '"  '""'!F''^'  /  '^-=  'f^^  -^  his  Table 

II      I   r       1       ,  '            ,  Kound, 

He   left   the   barren-beaten   thorough-  Knoun   as  they  are.   to  me  they  are 

^-.i       '"^5'                     ,  unknown." 
Chose  the  greet,  path  that  sliow'd  the 

rarer   foot.  Then  answer'd  Lancelot    the  chiVf 

And  there  among  the  solitary  downs,  „f  knights- 

FuU^^oiten    lo.t    in    fancy,    lost    h,s  "  Known  am  I.  and  of  Arthur's  hall, 

-r-ii         L              ,        .  .     ,  ^"''   known, 

T.ll  as  he  traced  a  famtly-shadowM  What    I    by    mere    mischance    have 

Th./     II    •      1                 ■    .•   ,  brouglit,     my   shield. 

the   dales    °''    '"                 """"^  ""^  f'""   ^   K"   '«  J°-f   -   -'■   un- 

D              1      /  ■      .       -    .  know  n 

?fred"fri   ^       "'  ^f "''''  '"  T'u  ^'  ^'^-"^'"^  ^°^  t*^*^  ^'^^^^-^^  ask  n,e 

rircd   trom   the  w\sv,   far  on   a  hdl.  not, 


the  towers 
1  hither  he  made,  and  blew  the  gate- 
way  horn. 
Then    came    an    old,    dumb,    myriad- 
wrinkled  man, 
Who   let   him   into  lodging   and   dis- 

arni'ii. 
And    Lancelot  mar\ei'd  at   the  word- 
.     less  man : 


Hereafter   ye   shall    know   me  — and 

the  shield  — 
I  pray  you  lend  me  one,  if  such  you 

have, 
Blank,  or  at  least  with  some  device 

not  mine." 

Then    said    the    Lord    of    Astolat, 
"  Here  is  Torre's: 


And  issuing  found  the  Lord  of  Asto-  Hurt  in  his  first  fit""  was  mv  son,  Sir 
\\T  L  Torre. 

S^La^'Z'  ""'  ^"  '^""*"  '"'^  ^"'  "'•  ^"^'^  ^-''  his  shield  Is  blank 
pir  Lavaine,  enough. 

Moving   to   n.eet    h,m    .n    the    castle  His     ye     can     have."      Then     added 

AhhT     Vk-   .    u  plain  Sir  Torre, 

And  close  behind  them  stept  the  lily  "  Yea,  since  I  cannot  use  it,  ye  may 

have  it." 


294 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Here  lau^hM  the  t.itlirr,  sayiiik;, 
"  I'ie,   Sir  Cluirl, 

Is  that  ;iii  answer  toi  ,i  noble  knij;ht  ? 

Allow  hini !  hut  l,a\  aine,  my  younger 
here, 

He  is  so  full  of  lustihooil,  he  will 
riile, 

Joust  for  it,  and  win,  and  biin^;  it  in 
an  hour, 

And  set  it  in  tliis  damsel's  i;olden 
hair. 

To  make  her  tbrire  a>  wilful  as  he- 
fore." 


"  Nay,    father,    nay,    [;ood    father, 

shame  nic  not 
Before  this  noble  kni^lit,"  s.iid  youn;^ 

Lavaine, 
"  ¥or   nothini^.      Surely    I    hut   play'd 

on  Torre: 
He   seein'd    so  sullen,    vext    he   could 

not  1:0: 
A    jest,    no    more!    for,    kiiiiiht,    the 

maiden   dreamt 
That  some  one  put  this  diamund   in 

her   hand. 
And    that    it    was    too   slippery    to   be 

held. 
And  slipt  and   fell   into  some  pool  or 

stream. 
The    tastle-well,    belike;    and    tlien    I 

sail! 
That  ;/'  I  went  and  //   I   fought  and 

w  (jn   It 
(Hut    all    was   jest    and    joke    among 

ourseKes) 
Then  must  she  keep  it  safelier.     All 

was  jest. 
Rut,   father,  give  me  leave,  an  if  he 

will, 
To   ride   to   Canielot   with   this  noble 

knight: 
Win  sliall   I  not,  but  do  my  best  to 

win : 
^'nung  n;;   I   am,  yet  would   T    do  my 

best.  ' 


"  So  ye  will   urs'^'"  me,"  answer'd 

Lancelot, 
Smiling  a  moment,   "  with  your   fel- 
lowship 
O'er   these   waste    downs   whereon    I 

lost  myself. 
Then    were   I    glad   of  you   as   guide 

and  friend  : 
And  you   shall    vin   this   diamond, — - 

as  I  hear 
It    is   a    fair    large    diamond, —  if   ye 

may, 
.And    \ield    it    to    this    maiden,    if   ye 

will." 
"  ,\  fail  large  diamond,"  added  plain 

Sir    Torre, 
"  SulIi    be    for    queens,    and    not    for 

simple  maids." 
Then   she,   who   held   her   eyes  upon 

the  ground, 
Klaine,   and   heard   her   name  so  tost 

about, 
I'lush'd   slightly  at  the  slight  dispar- 
agement 
Hefore     the    stranger     knight,     who, 

looking   at    her, 
Full    courtly,    yet    not    falsely,    thus 

return'd : 
"  If  what   is  fair  be  but   for  what   is 

fair, 
.And   only   queens   are   to   be   counted 

so. 
Rash    were   my    judgment    then,    who 

deem  this  maid 
Might  wear  as  fair  a  jewel  as  is  on 

earth, 
Not    violating    tlie    bond    of    like    to 

like." 


He  spKjke  and  ceased :  the  lily 
maid,  Elaine, 

Won  by  the  mellow  voice  before  she 
look'd, 

Lifted  her  eyes,  and  read  bis  linea- 
ments. 

The  great  and  guilty  love  he  bare  the 
Queen, 


I. AN Ci: LOT  AND  KI.AINE 


29? 


Ill   battle   with   the   love   he    hare    his 

h.r.l, 
Had  niarr'ii   his  faic,   an. I   niark'ii   it 

ere  his  time. 
Another  sinninj;  on  sik  li  liei^'hts  with 

one, 
Tlic    flower   of   all    the   west    and   all 

the   world, 
Flad   been   the   sleeker   tor   it:    but   in 

him 
Mis  nuMid  WAS  often  like  ,1  fiend,  and 

rose 
And  drove  liiin   into  wa-.tes  and  S(di- 

tudes 
For    a(;ony,    who    was    yet    a    livint; 

soul. 
Marr'd    as    he    was,    he    seem'd    the 

goodliest  man 
That  ever  amonK  ladies  ate  in  hall, 
And  noblest,  when  she  lifted   up  her 

eyes. 
However  marr'd,  of  more  than  twice 

her  years, 
Seem'd  with  an  ancient  swordcut  on 

the  cheek. 
And   bruised   and   bronzed,  she   lifted 

up   her   eyes 
And  loved  him,  with  that  love  which 

was  her  doom. 


Then    the    great   knight,    the    dar- 
ling of   the  court. 
Loved  of  the  loveliest,  into  that  rude 

hall 
Slept    with    all    grace,    and    not    with 

half  disdain 
Hid  under  grace,  as  in  a  smaller  time, 
But    kindly   man    moving   among  his 

kind : 
Whom  they  with  meats  and  vintage 

of  their  best 
And  talk  and  minstrel  melody  enter- 

tain'd. 
And   much   they  ask'd   of  court  and 

Table   Round. 
And  ever  well  and   readilv  ansucr'd 

he: 


But    Lancelot,   ulieti    they    glanced    at 

{ luincM-re. 
Suddenlv    speaking    of    the    wordless 

man, 
IL'ard  from  the  Haroii  tli:if.  ten  years 

before. 
The  heathen  caught  and   reft  him  of 

his  tongue. 
"  He  learnt  and   uarn'd   me  of  their 

fierce  design 
Against     my    house,     and    lum     they 

caught  and  maim'd  ; 
But   L   my  sons,  and   little  daughter 

(led 
From     bonds    or    death,    and     dwelt 

among  the  woods 
By  the  great  rive-  in  a  boatman's  hut. 
Dull  days  were   those,   till  our  good 

.Arthu'  broke 
'Fhe  Pagan  yet  once  more  on  Badon 

hill." 


"  O   there,   great   lord,    doubtless," 
Lavaine  said,    rapt 
By  all   the  sweet  and   sudden   passion 
of  youth 

Toward    greatness  in   its  elder,  "  you 
have  fought. 

f)  tell  us — for  we  live  apart  — you 
know 

Of    Arthur's    glorious    wars."     And 
Lancelot  spoke 

And  ansv.er'd  'him  at  full,  as  having 
been 

With  Arthur  in   the  fight  which  all 
day  long 

Rang  by  the  \\hite  mouth  of  the  vio- 
lent Glem; 

And  in  the  four  loud  battles  by  the 
^!lore 

Of  Uughis;  that  on  Bassa;  then   the 
uar 

That  thunder'd  In  and  out  the  gloomy 
skirts 

Of  Celidon^  the   forest;  and   again 

By  castle  Gurnion,  where  the  glori- 
ous King 


11)6 


IDYI.l.S  OF    ;  ill-:   K!.\(i 


iiad  nil   liK  cuirais  Wdrti  our   L.uly's 

HraJ, 
C'arvcil  iii  one  niirralil  icntrrM  iti  a 

sun 
Of  silver   rays,   that    ll^;!,l>■Il'd    xs   he 

brcathrd  ; 
Aiiil    at    L'aiilciiii    had    lie   hrlp'd    his 

1  ■-!, 
When    the    stron^;    iici^hiiij^s    (d    the 

wild  white   llcirse 
Set  every   gilded   parapet   shudderint;; 
And   up  111  A^;ncd  Cathre;4oni(jii,  tud. 
And   down   the  \ia^te  sand^hures  oi 

'Irath  Trcroit, 
Where  matiy  a  heathen  ull;  "  and  on 

the  nuHint 
Of   Uadon    I   niyselt   b<li'ld   the   Kin^ 
Char>;e  at  the  head  ot  all  Iiin    Table 

Knurid. 
And  all  his  Ictjions  cryint;  Christ  and 

him, 
And    bleak    tlieni ;    and    I    sa\v    him, 

atfiT,  stand 
llijili  on  a  heap  of  slain,  from  spur  to 

plume 
Red   as   the    risin;^   sun    with   heathen 

biouil. 
And  seeing  me,  with  a  ^reat  voice  he 

cried, 
'  They  are  broken,  they  are  broken !  ' 

for  the  Kinjj, 
However  mild  he  seems  at  home,  nor 

tares 
For  triumph  in  our  mimic  wars,  the 

jousts  — 
For  if  his  own  knight  cast  him  down, 

he  laut^hs 
Sayinji,    his    knights   are    better    men 

than  he  — 
'Vet   in   this  heathen    war   the  fire  of 

God 
Fills  him:  I  never  saw  his  like:  there 

lives 
No  greater  leader." 

While   he   utter'd   this, 
Low   to  her   own    heart   said   the   liiy 
maid, 


"Save  your  ^,rl•at  self,  fair  lord;" 
ami    when    he    tell 

From  talk  of  war  to  traits  of  pleas- 
ant rj  — 

Meirin  mirthful  Iw,  hut  in  a  stately 
kind    — 

She  still  took  note  that  v.  hen  the  liv- 
ing smile 

Died  from  his  lips,  across  him  came  a 

cloud 

Of    melancholy    severe,    from    which 

again. 
Whenever    in    her    hovering    to    and 

tro 
The    Illy    maid    had    Si  'ven    to    make 

him  cheer, 
'Fhere    brake    a   sudden-beaiiilng    ten- 
derness 
Of  manners  and  lA  nature:  and  she 

thought 
1  hat   all    was   nature,   all,   perchance, 

for  her. 
And  all  night  long  \..i  face  betore  her 

lived, 
As  when  a  painter,   p<iring  on  a   face. 
Divinely  thrc'  all  hindrance  finds  the 

man 
Behind  it,  and  so  paints  hiio   i!:::t  h.i-- 

face. 
The  shape  and  color  of  a  mind   and 

life. 
Lives  for  his  children,  ever  at  its  best 
And    fullest;    so   the    face    before   her 

lived, 
Dark  splen<iid,  speaking  in  the  silence, 

full 
Of  noble   things,   and   held   her   from 

her  sleep. 
Till    rathe   she   rose,    half-cheated    in 

the  thought 
She  needs  must  bid  farewell  to  sweet 

Lavaine. 
First  as   in   fear,  step  after  step,  she 

stole 
Down    the    long   tower-stairs,    hesita- 
ting: 
Anon,  she  heard  Sir   Lancelot  cry   in 

the  court, 


LANCELOT  AND  LLALNL 


"  Thl«i    shi'fld,    niy    fririiil,    ulicrr    is 

it  ?  "  and  l.avaiiip 
Past   inward,  as  sihc  nimr   tium   out 

the  lower. 
There    to   liis   proud    'icitM-    J.am-rlnt 

tiiiii'd,  and  sMiiiiith'd 
I  lie     uIiisnv     shoiiidfr,     luiiiunin!;     lo 

IllIllM'lt. 

Hait--nviiius   ot   the   H.ittcrui^'   liatid, 

she  dtru 
Nearer   and    stood.      He    lookM,    and 

■'lore  aniazcd 
riian  it  seven  men  had  set  upon  hun. 

saw 
1  he    maiden    standint;    'n    tlie    deuy 

licht. 
He  had  not  dieain'd  she  was  so  ItiMii- 

tit'ul. 
Then  tame  on   liim  a  sort  ot  sacnd 

fear, 
I-'or   silent,    tho'    he    greeted    her,   she 

stood 

Rapt   on    his    face    ;'s    if    it    uerr    a 

(lod's. 
Suddcni\'  tlash'd  on  her  a  wild  desire, 
1  hat  he  should  wear  her  favor  at  the 

tilt. 
She  hra\ed   a  riotous  heait  in  asking; 

for  it. 
"P;iir  lor.i,   wlinse  name  I   know    not 

—  nohle    it   is, 
I  well  believe,  the  noblest  —  will  you 

wear 
My  favor  at  this  tourney?  "     "  Nay," 

said  he, 
"  Fair    lady,    since    I    never   yet    have 

worn 
Favor  of  any  l,id\-  in  the  lists. 
Such  is  my  wont,  as  those,  u  ho  know 

me,    know." 
"Yea,   so."   she   answer'd;   "then   in 

wearing  mine 
Needs     must     be     lesser     likelihood, 

noble  loril, 
That  those  wi        now  should   know 

you."     Ana   ne    turnd 
Her  counsel  up  and  down  within  his 

mind. 


297 

And     friuml     it    true,    ana    answer'd, 

"   True,    mv    child. 
Well,  I  will  wear  it:  let,  h  it  out  to 

me: 
What  is  it?"  and   she  tohl   i.iui,   "A 

red  sleeve 
Uroider'd    with   pearls,"   and    brout;ht 

it:   thtn   he  boutiil 
Her  token  ot:  his  helmet,  with  a  smile 
Saying,    "  I    never    )et    have    done   so 

nnjch 
For  any  maiden  living,"  an.l  the  Mood 
Sprang  to  lier  f.ue  and  tiU'd  her  with 

delight  ; 
liut   left   her  a'l   the  p.iler,  u 'en   I,a- 

vaine 
Returning  brought  the  jet-unbla/on'd 

shield. 
His     brother's;     which     he     gave     io 

Lancelot, 
Who    part.'d    with    his   ovmi    to    fair 

r  laine : 
"  Uo  me  this  grace,  my  ciiild,  to  have 

my    shield 
In  keeping  till  1  come."     "  A  grace  to 

mc," 
She  answer'd,  "  twice   to-day.     I  am 

your  squire!  " 
Whereat      Lavaine     said,     laughine 

Lily    maid, 
I"or    fear    our    people    call    you    lily 

maid 
In   earnest,   let  me   bring  your  color 

back  ; 
t  )nce.  twire,  and  thrice:  now    get  you 

hence    to    iied  :  " 
So    kiss'd    her,    and    Sir    Lancelot    his 

ow  n  band, 
And  thus  they  moved  away:  she  stay'd 

a  minute, 
I  hen  made  a  sudden  step  to  the  fate, 

and   there  — 
Her  bright  liair  blown  about  the  seri- 
ous face 
Vet    rosy -kindled    with    her    brother's 

kiss  — 
Paused  by  the  gateway,  standing  near 
the  shield 


298 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


In    silciKc,   while   she   watch'd    their 

arms  far-off 
Sparkle,    until    they    dipt    below    the 

douiis. 
Then  to  her  tower  she  climb'd,  and 

took  the  shield, 
There  kept  it,  and  so  lived  in  fantasy. 

Meanwhile  the  new  companions 
past  aua_\' 

Far  o'er  the  long  backs  of  the  bush- 
less  downs, 

To  where  Sir  Lancelot  knew  there 
lived  a  knight 

Not  far  from  Camelot,  now  for  forty 
years 

A  hermit,  who  had  pray'd,  labor'd  and 
pray'd, 

And  ever  laboring  had  scoop'd  himself 

In  the  white  rock  a  chapel  and  a  hall 

On  massive  columns,  like  a  shorecliff 
cave. 

And  cells  and  chambers:  all  were  fair 
and  dry ; 

The  green  light  from  the  meadows 
underneath 

Struck  up  and  lived  along  the  milky 
roofs; 

And  in  the  neadovvs  tremulous  as- 
pen tree 

And  poplars  made  a  noise  of  fa  ling 
showers. 

And  thither  wending  there  that  night 
they  bode. 

But  when  the  next  day  broke  from 
undergro\inii, 

And  shot  red  fire  and  shadows  thro' 
the  cave, 

They  rose,  heard  mass,  broke  fast,  and 
rode  away : 

Then  Lancelot  saying,  "  Hear,  but 
hold  my  name 

Hidden,  you  ride  with  Lancelot  of  the 
Lake." 

Abash'd  Lavaine,  whose  instant  rever- 
ence, 


Dearer    to    true    young    hearts    than 

their  own  praise. 
But  left  him  leave  to  stammer,  "  U  it 

indeed  ?  " 
And    after    muttering,    "  The    great 

Lancelot," 
At  last  he  pot  his  breath  and  answer'd, 

"  One, 
One   have    I    seen  —  that   other,   our 

liege  lord, 
The  dread  Pendragon,  Britain's  King 

of  kings. 
Of  whom  the  people  talk  mysteriously, 
He    will    be    there  —  then    were    I 

stricken  blind 
That  minute,  1  might  say  that  I  had 

seen." 

So  spake  Lavaine,  and  when  they 

reach'd  the  lists 
By   Camelot  in   the  me.uiow,  let  his 

eyes 
Run  thro'  the  peopled  gallery  which 

hplf  round 
Lay   like  a   rainbow   fall'n   upon   the 

grass, 
Until     they     found     the     clear-faced 

King,  vvlio  sat 
Robed    in    red    samite,    easily    to    be 

known. 
Since  to  his  crown  the  golden  dragon 

clung. 
And     down     his     robe     the     dragon 

writhed   in   gold. 
And  from  the  carven-work  behind  him 

crept 
Two  dragons  gilded,  sloping  down  to 

make 
Arms  for  his  chair,  while  all  thr  rest 

of  them 
Thro'  knots  and  loops  and  folds  innu- 
merable 
Fled   ever    thru'    the   woodwork,    till 

they  found 
The    new    design    wherein    they    lost 

themselves, 
Yet  with  all  ease,  so  tender  was  the 

work : 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 


299 


And,  In  the  costly  canopy  o'er  him  set, 
Blazed  the  last  diamond  of  the  name- 
less king. 

Then     Lancelot     answer'd     young 
Lavaine  and  said, 
"  Mc    you    call    creat:    mme    is    the 

firmer  scat, 
The  truer  lance:  but  there  is  many  a 

youth 
Now  crescent,  who  will  come  to  al!  I 

am 
And   overcome   it ;   and    in    me   there 

dwells 
No  greatness,  save  it  be  some  far-off 

touch 
Of  greatness  to  know  well   I  am  not 

great: 
There    is    the    man."     And    La\aine 

gaped  upon  him 
As  on  a  thing  miraculous,  and  anon 
The    trumpeis    blew;    and    then    did 

either  side. 
They  that  assail'd,  and  they  that  held 

the  lists, 
Set  lance  in  rest,  strike  spur,  suddenly 

move, 
Meet    in    the    midst,    and    there    so 

furiously 
Shock,  that  a  man  far-off  miijlit  well 

perceive. 
If  any  man  that  da>^  were  left  afield, 
The    hard    earth    shake,    and    a    low 

thunder  of  arms. 
And    Lancelot   bode   a   little,    till   he 

saw 
Which    were    the    weakc-  ;    then    he 

hurl'd  into  it 
Against   the  stronger:   little   need   to 

speak 
Of    Lancelot    in    his    glory!     King, 

di.'ke,  earl, 
Count,   baron  —  whom   he  smote,   he 

overthrew. 

But   in    the   field    were    Lancelot's 
kith  and  kin, 


Ranged  with  the  Table  Round  that 

held    the   lists. 
Strong    men,    and    wrathful    that    a 

stranger  knight 
Should    do    and    almost    overdo    the 

deeds 
Of    Lancelot;    and    one    said    to    the 

other,   "  Lo! 
What    is    he?     I    do    not    mean    the 

force   alone  — 
T  he    grace    and    versatility    of    the 

man  I 
Is    ;t    not    Lancelot?"     "  Wlien    has 

Lancelot  worn 
Favor  of  any  lady  in  the  lists  ? 
Not  such  his  wont,  as  we,  that  know 

him,  know." 
"  Hov\-    then?    who    then?"    a    fury 

seized    them    all, 
A     fiery     family     passion      for     the 

name 
Of  Lancelot,   and   a  glory  one  wit'. 

theirs. 
They  coucird  their  spears  and  prick'd 

theit   steeds,   nnd   thus, 
Their  plumes  driv'n  backward  by  the 

wind  they  made 
In   moving,   all   together   down   upon 

him 
Bare,    as   a   wild    wave   in    the    wide 

North-sea, 
Green-glimmering    toward    the    sum- 
mit, b"ars,  with  all 
Its  stormy  crests  that  smoke   '         n 

the  skies, 
Down  on  a  bark,  and  overbt. 

bark. 
And  him  that  helms  it,  so  they  over- 
bore 
Sir  Lancelot  and   his  charger,  and  a 

spear 
Down-glancing    lamed    the    charger, 

and  a  spear 
Prick'd  sharply  his  own  cuirass,  and 

the  head 
Pierced  thro'  his  side,  and  there  snapt, 
and  remain'd. 


300 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KIN- 


Then    Sir    I.avaine    did    well    and 

v\orshipfully ; 
He  bore  a  knight  of  old  repute  to  the 

earth, 
And    brought   his   horse    to    Lancelot 

uhere  he  lay. 
He  up  the  side,  sweating  with  agony, 

got, 
But  thought  to  do  v\hile  he  might  yet 

endure, 
And  being  lustily  holpen  by  the  rest, 
His     part\-, —  tho'     it     seeni'd     half- 
miracle 
To  those  he  fought  with, —  drave  his 

kith  and  kin, 
And  all  the  Table  Round  that  held 

the  lists, 
Back  to  the  barri:'r;  then  the  trumpets 

blew 
Proclaiming  his  the  prize,  who  wore 

the  sleeve 
Of  scarlet,  and  the  pearls;  and  all  the 

knights. 
His  party,  cried,  "  Advance  and  take 

thy  prize 
The    diamond ;  "    but    he    answer'd, 

"  Uianionil    me 
No  diamonds!  for  (jod's  love,  a  little 

air! 
Prize  me  no  prizes,   for  my  prize  is 

death! 
Hence  will  I,  and  I  charge  you,  follow 

me  not." 

He   spoke,    and    vanish'd    suddenly 

from  the  field 
With  young  Lavaine  into  the  poplar 

grove. 
There  from  his  charger  down  he  slid, 

and  sat. 
Gasping  to  Sir  Lavaine.  ''  Draw  the 

lance-head :  " 
"  Ah   my   sweet   lord   Sir   Lancelot," 

said   Lavaine, 
"  I  dread  me,  if  1  draw  it,  ynu  will 

die." 
But    he,    "  I    die    already    with    it: 

draw  — 


Draw," —  and  Lavaine  drew,  and  Sir 

Lancelot   gave 
A  marvelous  great  shriek  and  ghastly 

groan, 
And   half   his  blood   burst   forth,   and 

down  he  sank 
For     the     pure     pain,     and     wholly 

suoon'd  away. 
Then  came  the  hermit  out  and  bare 

him   in, 
There  stanch'd  his  wound  ;  and  there, 

in  daily  doubt 
Whether  to  live  or  die,   for  many  a 

week 
Hid  from  the  v\ide  world's  rumor  by 

the  grove 
Of  poplars  with  their  noise  of  falling 

showers, 
And    ever-tremulous    aspen-trees,    he 

lay. 

Hut  on  that  day  wlien  Lancelot  fled 

the  lists. 
His  party,   knights  of  utmost   North 

and  West, 
Lords    of    waste    marshes,    kings    of 

desolate  isles. 
Came  round   their   great    Pendragon, 

saying  to  him, 
'  Lo,  Sire,  our  knight,  thro'  whom  we 

won  the  day. 
Hath   gone  sore  wounded,   and   hath 

left  his  prize 
Untaken,    crjing    that    his    prize    is 

death." 
"  Heaven     hinder,"     said     the     King, 

"  that  such  an  one. 
So  great  a  knight  as  we  have  seen  to- 
day — 
He  seeni'd  to  me  another  Lancelot  — 
"^'ea,    twenty    times    1    thought    him 

Lancelot  — 
He     must     not     pass     uncared     for. 

Wherefore,  rise, 
O  Gawain,   and    ride   forth   and   find 

the   knight. 
^V'oundcd  and  wearied  needs  roust  he 

be  near. 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 


I  charge  you  that  you  pet  at  onrc  to 

horse. 
And,      knights      and      kings      there 

breathes  not  one  o!  you 
Will  deem  this  prize  of  ours  is  rashly 

given : 
His  prowess  was  too  wondrous.     We 

will   do  him 
No  customary  honor:  since  the  knight 
Came  not  to  us,  of  us  to  claim   the 

prize, 
(iarselves    will    vnd    it    after.     Rise 

and  take 
1  his    diamond,    and    deliver    it,    and 

return. 
And   bring  us  where  he  is,   and   how 

he    .'ares, 
And  cease  not  from  your  quest  until 

ye  find." 

So  sa\in_     from   the  carven  flower 
above. 
To  which  it  made  a  restless  heart,  he 

took. 
And    gave    the    diamond:    then    fri,  .. 

where  he  sat 
At  Arthur's  right,   with  smiling   face 

arose. 
With  smiling  face  and  frowning  heart 

a  Prince 
In  the  mid  might  and  flourish  of  his 

May, 
Gawain,    surnamed    The    Courteous, 

fair  and  strong, 
And    after    Lancelot,    Tristram,    and 

(.^eraint 
And    Gareth,    a    good    knight,    but 

therewithal 
Sir  Modred's  brother,  and  the  child 

of  Lot, 
Nor    often    loyal    to    his   word,    and 

now 
Wroth   that  the  King's  command  to 

sally  forth 
In  quest  of  whom  he  knew  not,  made 

him  leave 
The     banquet,     and     concourse     of 
knights  and  kings. 


301 

So  all  in  wrath  he  got  to  horse  and 
\vent  ; 
\Miile  Arthur  to  the  banquet,  dark  in 

mood. 
Past,   thinking,  "  Is  it  Lancelot  who 

hath  come 
Despite  the  wound  he  spake  of,  all  for 

gain 
Of  glory,  and  hath  added  wound  to 

wound, 
And     ridd'n     away     to     die?"     So 

fear'd  the  King, 
And,  after  two  days'  tarriance  there, 

return'd. 
Then   when   he  saw  the  Queen,   em- 
bracing ask'd, 
"  Love,  are  you  yet  so  sick  ?  "     "  Nay, 

lord,"   she   said. 
"  And  where  is  Lancelot  ?  "    Then  the 

Queen  amazed, 
"Was  he  not  with  you?  won  he  not 

your  prize?  " 
"  Nay,    but   one   like    him."     "  Why 

that  like  was  he." 
And   v\hen   the  King  demanded   how 

she  knew. 
Said,  "  Lord,  no  sooner  had  )e  parted 

from  us. 
Than  Lancelot  told  me  of  a  common 

talk 
1  hat  men  went  do^vn  before  his  spear 

at  a  touch, 
Hut    knowing   he   was    Lancelot;    his 

great  name 
Conquer'd ;    and    therefore    would    he 

hide  his  name 
From  all  men,  ev'n  the  Kmg,  and  to 

this  end 
Had  made  the  pretext  of  a  hindering 

wound. 
That  he  might  joust  unknown  of  all, 

and  learn 
If    his    old    ptowess    were    in    aught 

decay'd  ; 
And  added,  '  Our  true  Arthur,  when 

he  leatns, 
Will   well    allow   my   pretext,    as   for 
gain 


302 

Of  purer  nlory.' 


DYLI.S  OF  THE  KING 


Then   replied   thr    King: 
"  Far  lovelier  m  our  Lancelot  h.i.l  it 

been, 
In  lieu  of  idly  dallyinp  \\  ith  the  truth, 
To  have  trusted  me  as  he  hath  trusted 

thee. 
Surely    his    King    and    most    familiar 

friend 
Might    well    have    kept    his    secrrt. 

True,  indeed, 
Albeit  I  know  my  knights  fantastical, 
So  tine  a  fear  in  our   large   Lancelot 
Alust  needs  have  moved  ni\   laughter: 

nou  remains 
But  little  cause  for  laughter:  his  oivn 

kin  — 
111  n>  us,  rnv  Queen,  for  all  who  lo\e 

him,  this!  — 
His   kith   and    kin,    not   knowing,   set 

upon  him ; 
So  that  he  went  sore  wounded   from 

the  field  : 
'^'et  good  news,  too:  for  goodly  liopes 

are  mine 
That    Lancelot   is   no  more   a   lonely 

heart. 
He  wore,  against  his  wont,  upon  his 

helm 
A    sleeve    of    scarlet,    broidcr'd    with 

great  pearls. 
Some   gentle   maiden's   gift." 

"  Yea,   lord,"   she  said, 
"Thy   hopes    are    mine,"    and    saying 

that,  she  choked. 
And  sharply  turn'd  about  to  hide  her 

face, 
Past  to  her  chainber,  and  there  flung 

herself 
Down  on  the  great  King's  couch,  and 

writhed  upon  it, 
And  clench'd  lier  fingers  till  they  bit 

tlic  palm. 
And  shriek'd  out,   "  Traitor  "  to  the 

unhearing  wall, 


Then  flash'd  into  wild  tears,  and  rose 

again, 
And   moved  about  h_r  palace,  proud 
and  pale. 


(jawain    the    while    thro'    all    the 

region  round 
Rode  with   his   diamond,   wearied   of 

the  quest, 
Touch'd    at    all    points,    except    the 

poplar  grove, 
y\nd  came  at  l^st,  tho'  late,  to  Asto- 

lat: 
Whom    glittering    in    eiiainerd    arms 

the  maid 
(ilanced  at,  and  cried,  ''  What  news 

from  Canielot,   lord? 
What   of    the    knight    with    the    red 

sleeve?  "     "  He  won." 
"  I  knew  it,"  she  said.     "  But  patted 

from  the  jousts 
Hurt  in  the  side,"  whereat  she  caught 

her  breath ; 
Thro'  her  own  side  she  felt  the  sharp 

lance  go ; 
Thereon   she  smote  her   hand :   well- 
nigh  she  swoon'd : 
And,  while  he  gazed  wonderingly  at 

her,  came 
The   Lord   of  Astolat  out,   to  whom 

the  Prince 
Reported  who  he  was,  and  on  what 

quest 
Sent,  that  he  bore  the  prize  and  could 

not  find 
The  victor,  but  had  ridd'n  a  random 

round 
To  seek  him,  and  had  wearied  of  the 

search. 
To  whom  the  Lord  of  Astolat,  "  Bide 

with  us, 
And  ride  no  more  at  random,  noble 

Prince! 
Here  was  the  knight,  and  heri;  he  left 

a  shield  ; 
This    will    he    send    or    come    for: 

furthermore 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 


Our  son  is  with  him;  «c  shall  hear 

anon, 
Needs  must  we  hear."     To  this  tlie 

courteous  Prince 
Accorded   with  his   wonted   courtesy, 
Courtesy  with    a  touch  of  traitor   in 

it, 
And  stay'd  ;  ar.il  cast  his  eyes  on  fair 

Ellaine : 
Where  could  be  found  face  daintier? 

then  her  shape 
From  forehead  down  to  foDt,  perfect 

—  again 
From     foot     to     forehead     excjuisitcly 

turn'd : 
"Well  — if    I    bide,    lo!    this    w;id 

flower  for  me  !  " 
And  oft  they  met  amon^  the  jr.-crden 

yews, 
And  there  he  set  hiinself  to  play  upon 

her 
With  sallyinK  wit,  free  Hashes  frcjm  a 

hci^jht 
Above  her,   graces  cf   the  court,   and 

songs, 
Sighs,    and    slow    smiles,    and    golden 

eloquence 
And  amorous  adulation,  till  the  maid 
Rebell'd    against    it,    saying    to    him, 

"  Prince, 
O   loyal   nephew    ot   our   noble   King, 
Why  ask  you  not  to  see  the  shield  he 

left, 
Whence  you   might   learn   his   name? 

Why  slight  >our   King, 
And   lose   the   quest    he   sent   30U   on, 

and   prove 
No  surer  than  our  falcon  yesterday, 
Who   lost   the   hern    ue   slipt   her   at, 

and  went 
To  all  the  winds?  "     "  Nay,  by  mine 

head,"  s-nid   he, 
"  I    lose   it,    as   we   lose    the   lark    in 

heaven, 
O  damsel,  in  the  light  of  your  blue 

eyes; 
But    an    ye    will    it    kt    me    sec    the 
shield." 


And    when    the   shield    was    brought, 

and  Gawain  saw 
Sir    Lancelot's    azure    lions,    c    ivvn'd 

with  gold, 
Ramp  in  the  field,  he  smote  his  thigh, 

and  nicick'd : 
"  Right  wa5  the  King!  our  Lancelot! 

that   true   man  !  " 
"  And    right    w  as    L"    she    answcr'd 

merrily,    "  I, 
Who  dream'd  my  knight  the  greatest 

knight  of  all." 
"And    if  /   dream'd,"   said   (Jawain, 

"  that  you  love 
This    greatest    knight,    your    pardon! 

lo,  ye  know  it! 
Speak  therefore:  shall  1   waste  myself 

in    vain  ?  " 
Full  simple  was  her  answer,  "  What 

know   I  ? 
-My  brethren  have  be-r?  all  my  fellow- 
ship; 
And  1,  when  often  they  nave  talk'd  of 

love, 
Wish'd   it  had   been  mv  mother,   for 

they  talk'd, 
Meseem'd.   of   what   they   knew   not; 

so   myself  — 
I  know-  not  if  I  know  what  true  .ove 

is, 
But  if   I   know,   then,   if  I   love  not 

him, 
I    know    there   is   none    other    I    can 

love." 
"  Vea,  by  God's  dea.n,"  said  he,  "ye 

love  hin]  well. 
But   would    not,    knew   ye   what    all 

others  know. 
And   w  hom   he   loves."     "  So  be  it," 

cried  Elaine. 
And   lifted   her   fair  face  and   moved 

away : 
But  he  pursued  her,  railing,  "  Stay  a 

little ! 
One  golden  minute's  grace;  he  wort 

your  sleeve : 
Would  he  break  faith  with  one  I  may 
not  name  ? 


304 


IDYLLS  OF  THP:  KING 


Must  our  true  man  chan^;c  like  a  Icat 

at  last? 
Nay  —  like  ennw:  why  tlifn,  tar  be  it 

from  me 
To  cross  our  miRhty  Lancelot  in  his 

loves ! 
And,   ilanisel,   for   I   deem   you  know 

full  well 
Where  your  great  knight   is  liiddeii, 

let  me  leave 
My    quest    with    you;    the    liiamond 

also:  here! 
For  if  you  love,   it  will  be  s\vcet  to 

give  it; 
And    if   be   love,    it   will   he  sweet   to 

have  it 
From  your  ow  n   hand  ;  and  u  liether 

lie  love  or  not, 
A  diamond  is  a  diamond.     Fare  vnu 

well 
A     thousand      times!  —  a     thousand 

times  fareuell ! 
Yet,  if  he  lOve,  and  his  love  hold,  we 

two 
May  meet  at  court  hereafter:  there,  I 

tnink. 
So  ye  will  learn  the  courtesies  of  the 

court, 
We  two  shall  know  eacli  other." 

Then  he  j^ave. 
And  slightly  kiss'd  the  hand  to  which 

he  gave. 
The  diamond,  and  all  weaned  of  tlie 

quest 
Leapt  on   lu's  horse,   and  caroling  as 

he  \\  ent 
A  true-love  ballad,  lightly  rode  aw.iy. 

Thence  to  the  court  he  past ;  there 

told  the   King 
WHiat  the  King  knew,  "  Sir  Lancelot 

is  the  knight.'' 
And  added,  "  Sire,  my  liege,  so  much 

I  h'arnt; 
But  faii'd  to  find  him  tlio'  I   rode  all 

round 
The  region:  but  I  lighted  on  the  maid 


Whose  sleeve  he  '-ore;  she  loves  him; 
and  to  her, 

Deeming  our  courtesy  is  the  trues, 
law, 

I  gave  the  diamond:  she  will  render 
it; 

For  b)  mine  head  she  knows  his  hid- 
ing-place." 

The  seldom-frowning  King  frown'd, 
and   replieil, 

"  Too  courteous  truly!  ye  shall  go  no 
more 

On  quest  of  ni  ne,  seeing  that  ye  for- 
get 

Obedience  is  the  courtesy  due  to 
kings." 

He  spake  and  parted.     Wrotii,  but 

all  in  awe. 
For  twenty  strokes  of  tlie  blood,  with- 
out a  word, 
Linger'd     that     other,     staring    after 

him ; 
Then  -hook  his  hair,  strode  off,  and 

bu/./'d  abroad 
About  the  maid  of  Astolat,  and  her 

love. 
y\ll    ears    were    prick'd    at    once,    all 

tongues  were  loosed. 
'■  The    maid    of    Astolat    loves     Sir 

Lancelot, 
Sir  Lanceh'f  loves  the  maid  of  Asto- 
lat." 
Some  read  the  King's  face,  some  the 

Queen's,  and   all 
Had  marvel  what  the  maid  might  be, 

but  most 
Predoom'd    her    as    unworthy.     One 

old  dame 
Came  suddenly  on  the  Queen  w  ith  the 

sharp  news. 
She,   that  had   heard   the  noise  of  it 

before, 
But  sorrowing  Lancelot  should   have 

!>tooi)  d  so  low  , 
^Llrr'd    her   friend's   aim   with   pale 

tranquillity. 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 


So   ran    tiie   tale    like    (iro   about    tlie 

court, 
Fire  in  dry  stubble  a  iiiia-davs'  uon- 

der  flared  : 
1  ill  ev'n  tlu-  knights  at  baiuiuet  tu  ice 

or  thrice 
Forgot  to  drink  to  J.ancelot  and  tlie 

Queen, 
And    pledging   I.ancelot   and    the   lily 

maid 
Smiled     at     each     other,     while     the 

Queen,  who  sat 
With    lips    severel)    placid,    felt    ;he 

knot 
Climb  in  her  throat,  and  with  her  feet 

unseen 
Crush'd   the  wild  passion  out  against 

the  floor 
iieneath  the  banquet,  where  the  meats 

became 
As  uormuood,  and  she  hated  all  u  ho 
pledged. 


Hut  far  away  the  maid  in  Astolat, 
Her  guiltless  rival,  she  that  ever  kept 
The  one-day-seen  Sir  Lancelot  in  her 

heart, 
Crept  to  her  father,  while  he  mused 

alone. 
Sat  on  bis  knee,  stroked  his  grav  face 

and  said, 
"  Father,  you  call  me  wilful,  and  the 

fault 
Is  yours  wlm  let  me  have  my  will,  ami 

now. 

Sweet  father,  will  you  let  me  lose  mj- 
wits?  " 

"  Nay,"  said  he,  "  surely."  "  Where- 
fore,  let   me   hence," 

She  answer'd,  "  and  find  out  our  dear 
Lavaine." 

"Ye  will  not  lose  your  wits  fur  dear 
Lavaine ; 

Ride,"  answer'd  he:  "we  needs  must 
hear   anon 

Of  him,  and  of  that  other."  "  Aye," 
she  said, 


"  And  of  that  other,  for  I  needs  must 

hence 
And    find    that   other,    wherescje'er   he 

be. 
And    with    mine    own    hand    give    his 

diamond  to  him, 
Lest    I    be    found    a>    faithless    in    the 

quest 
As    yon    proud    Prince    who    left    the 

c,uest  to  me. 
Suect    father,    I    behold    him    in    my 

dreams 
Gaunt    as    it    were    the    skeleton     of 

himself, 
Death-pale,    for   lack   of  gentle  maid- 
en's aid. 
The    gentler-born     the     maiden,     the 

more  bound, 
Aly  father,  to  be  sweet  and  serviceable 
lo   noble   knights   in   sickness,   as  ye 

know 
When  these  have  worn  their  tokens: 

let  me  hence 
I   pray  you."     Then   her   father  nod- 
ding said, 
"  Aye,  aye,  the  diamond:  wit  ye  well, 

my  child, 
Right  fain  were  I  to  learn  this  knight 

were  uhole. 
Being    our    greatest:    jea,     and     you 

must   give   it  — 
And  sure  I   think   this  fruit   is  hung 

too  high 
For  any   mouth   to   gape   for   save   a 

queen's  — 
Nay,    I   mean   nothing:   so   then,    get 

you  gone, 
Being  so  very  w  ilfu!  you  must  go." 

Lightly,  her  suit  allow'd,  she  slipt 
awav. 
And  while  she  made  her  ready  for  her 
ride. 

Her  father's  latest  word  humm'd   in 

her  ear, 
"  Being  so  very  wilful  you  must  go  " 
And  changed  itself  and  echo'd  in  her 

heai  t, 


3<  )6 


IDYLLS  OF  THL   KlNCi 


"  BcinK  !>(i  M"r\  wilful  yrm  mii^     !ii'-" 
Hut  she  \\ris  happy  t'tioiijih  aiiil  ^lindk 

it  off, 
As  ui-  shake  off  the  bee  that   bu//i> 

at   us ; 
And  in  her  heart  she  aiisuer'd  It  ami 

said, 
"  What  matter,  so  I  iielp  him  back  tn 

lite?" 
Then   tar  away  uitii  ^;'hh1  Sir  Torre 

for    piide 
Rode  o'er  the  hini;  backs  of  the  bush- 
less  dou  ns 
To  Camelot,  and  iu-fore  the  iit>  nates 
Came   on   her  brotlier   with   a   happy 

face 
Making  a  roan  horse  caper  and  curvet 
For  pleasure  all  about  a  field  of  (low- 
ers : 
Whom    when    she    saw,    "  Lavaine," 

she  cried,  "  Lavaine, 
How   fares  my  lord   Sir   Lancelot:  " 

He  ama/ed, 
"Torre     and      Flaine!     why     here? 

Sir   Lat'.celot ! 
How    know    \e    my    lord's    name    is 

Lancchit  ?  " 
But  when   the  maid  liad  told  him  all 

her    tale, 
Then  turn'd  Sir  Torre,  and  beinjj;  in 

his  moods 
Left    them,    and    under    the    strange- 

statued  gate, 
WTiere   Arthur's   wars  were   render'd 

mystically. 
Past  up  tlie  still  rich  citv  to  his  kin, 
His  own    far  blood,   which   dwelt   at 

Camelot ; 
And   her,   Lavaine    across   the   poplar 

grove 
Led  to  the  caves:  there  first  she  saw 

the  casque 
Of  Lancelot  on  the  wall :  her  scarlet 

sleeve, 
Tho'   carved   and   cut,    and   half   the 

pearls  away, 
Stream'd    from    it    still ;    and    in    her 
heart  she  laugh'd. 


iieca.ise  he  IkuI  not  looked  it  from  his 

helm. 
Hut    meant    once    more    perchance    to 

tourney    in    it. 
.And  when  they  gain'd  the  cell  where- 
in he  slept. 
Hi',   battle-w  ritlien   arms   anil    mighty 

hands 
L.iy    naked    on    the    wolfskin,    and    a 

dream 
()f   dragging   down    his   enenn    made 

them  nio\  e. 
Then  she  that  --aw  him  l\in^;  unsleek, 

unshorn, 
daunt  as  it  were  the  skeleton  of  liini- 

self, 
I'tter'd   a   little   tender   dolorous  cry. 
The  sound  not  wonteil   in  a  place  so 

still 
Woke  the  sick  knight,  and   while  he 

roll'd  his  eyes 
Vet  blank  from  sleep,  she  started  to 

him,  saying, 
"  'i'our  prize  the  diamond  sent  you  by 

the  King:  " 
His   eyes   glisten'd:   she    fancicil,  "  Is 

it  for  me?  " 
.And  when  the  maid  had  t(dd  him  all 

the   tale 
Of    King    and    Priice,     '  ■•    diamond 

sent,   the  quest 
Assign'd  to  her  not  worthy  of  it,  she 

knelt 
Full  lowly  by  the  corners  of  his  bed, 
.And    laid    the    diamond    in    his   open 

hand. 
Her  face  was  near,  and  as  we  kiss  the 

child 
That  does  the  task  assign'd,  he  kiss'd 

her  face. 
At   once  she   slipt   like   water    to   the 

floor. 
"  Alas,"    he    said,    "  your    ride    hath 

wearied  you. 
Rest  must  yoi;  hive."     "  No  rest  for 

nie,"  she  said ; 
"  Nav,  for  near  vou,  fair  lord,  I  am  at 
rest." 


LAN CK LOT  AND  ELAINE 


What  miKht  she  mean   by   that?   his 

lar^;f  hlack  eyes, 
\'et   larger   thro'   his   ifanncss,   dut-lt 

upon  her, 
Till  all  her  heart's  sad  sctrct  h!azc<i 

itself 
In   the   heart's  colors   on    lur   simple 

face ; 
And    Lancelot    lonkM    atui    \vas    pci- 

ple\t  in  mind, 
An<l    bein^    weak    in    body    said    no 

more  ; 
But  did   nf)t  love  the  ccjlor;  woman's 

love, 
Save    one,    he    not    re^^arded,    and    so 

turn'd 
Sighinn,   and   feign'd  a  sleep  until   he 
slept. 

Tlien  rose  Klaine  and  ^liJed  thro' 
the  (ields, 
And    past   beneath   the    weirdly-sculp- 
tured gates 
Far  up  the  dim  rich  city  to  her  kin; 
There  bode  the  ni{:ht:  but  woke  with 

dawn,  and  past 
Down  thro'  the  dim  rich  city  to  the 

fields, 
Thence   to   the  cave:   so   day   by   day 

she  past 
In   either   twilight   ghostlike   to  and 

fro 
Gliding,    and    every    day    she    tended 

him, 
And     likcuise    many    a     night:     and 

Lancelot 
Would,    tho'   he  call'd   his  wound   a 

little  hurt 
Whereof  he  should  be  quickly  whole, 

at  times 
Brain-feverous  in  his  heat  and  agony, 

seem 
Uncourteous,  even  he:  but  the  meek 

maid 
Sweetly   forbore   him   ever,    being   to 

him 
Meeker   than    any   child    to   a   rough 
nurse, 


Milder    than    any    mother    to    a    sick 

child, 
And    never    woman    yet,    since    man's 

first   tall. 
Did   kindlier  unto  man,  but  her  deep 

love 
l.pbore  her;  till  the  hermit,  skili'd  in 

all 
1  he  siniphN  and    the  science  ot    that 

tjme, 
Told  him  that  her  fine  care  had  saved 

his  life. 
And   the  sick   man    forgot   her  simple 

blush, 
Would    call     her    friend    and    sister, 

sueet   Klaine, 
\V'ould  listen  for  her  comini,'  .ind   re- 
gret 
Her     parting     step,     and     held     her 

tinderK', 
And    loved    her   with   all    love  except 

the  love 
Of  man  and   woman  when  they  love 

their  best. 
Closest   and   sweetest,   and    had    died 

the  death 
In  any  knightly  fashion  for  her  sake. 
And    peradventure    had    he    seen    her 

first 
She  might   have  made  this  and   that 

other  world 
Another  world  for  the  sick  man ;  but 

now 
The  shackles  of  an  old  love  straiten'd 

him, 
ILs  honor  rooted   in  dishonor  stood, 
And  faith  unfaithful  kept  him  falsely 
true. 


Yet  the  great  knight  in  his  mid- 
sickness  made 

Full  many  a  holy  vow  and  pure  re- 
solve. 

These,  as  but  born  of  sickness,  could 
not  live: 

For  when  the  blood  ran  lustier  in 
him  again. 


3()H 


IDYLLS  Ol    IIIL   KING 


Full   oftfn    tliP   liriuht    ;ni.ii;c   of   one 

'■'"'• 
Makin^i    a    triMchiTous    quiet    in    In-. 

hcarr, 
Dispersed  his  resolution  like  a  cloud. 
Tlun     if     the     maiden,     while     that 

nhostly  i;race 
Hcain'd    on    his    fanry,    spoke,    he    an- 

swcr'd  not, 
Or   short   anil    coldly,   and    she   knew 

ri^ht  well 
Wiat   the   rou'^'h  sickness  meant,   bat 

what  this  meant 
She  knew  not,  and  the  sorrow  duiinrd 

her  sis:ht, 
And  dr;ue  her  ere  her  time  across  the 

ticlds 
Far    into   t!ie    rich    cit\',    where    alone 
She  murniur'd,  "  \'ain,  in  vain:  it  can- 
not be. 
He    will    not    love    nie :    Ikjw    then? 

must  I  die?  " 
Then     as    a    little    helpless    innocent 

bird, 
That  has  but  one  plain  passage  of  few- 
notes, 
Will  sinK  the  simple  passable  o'er  and 

o'er 
For  all  an  .April  inorniim,  till  the  ear 
Wearies    to    hear    it,    so    the    simple 

maiil 
Went      half     the     nijjht      repeatinL', 

"  Mu>t   I   die?" 
And  now  to  rif;ht  she  turn'd,  and  now 

to  left, 
And   f(jund  no  ease  in  turninir  or  in 

rest ; 
And   "  Fliin   or  di'ath,"  she  mutter'd, 

"  death   or  him," 
Again  and  like  a  burthen,  "  Him  or 
death." 


But    when    Sir    Lancelot's    deadly 

hurt  was  whole, 
To  Ast(dat  returning:  rode  the  three. 
There   morn   by   morn,   arraying  her 

sweet  self 


in  that  wherein  bhe  deem'd  shi  luok'd 

her  be^t, 
.She  came  belore  Sir  Farnelot,  iin  ^he 

thouuht 
"If    1    be   loved,    these   are   ni\'    festal 

robes. 
If  n(Jt.   ttie  victim's  liowers  before  he 

fall." 
.And    Lancelot    ever    prest    upon    tlie 

maid 
That  she  should  ask  some  goodly  gift 

of  him 
I'or   her  own   self  or  hers;   "and    ilo 

not   shun 
,   .  ..^•'eak  the  w  ish  most  near  to  your 

true  heart ; 
Such  service  h.ive  ye  done  me,  that   I 

make 
M>'    will    of    \ours,    and    Prince    and 

Lord  am    I 
In  mine  own  land,  and  what  I  v^ill  I 

can." 
Tlun   like  a  trhost  she   lifted    up   her 

face. 
Hut  like  a  ghost  without  the  power  to 

speak. 
And   Lancelot  saw  that  she  withheld 

her  wish. 
And    bode    among    them    yet    a    little 

space 
Till  he  should  learn  it;  and  one  morn 

it  chanced 
fie   foimd  her   in  among  the  garden 

yew  s. 
And   said,   "  Delay   no  longer,   speak 

your  wish. 
Seeing    I    go    to-day:"    then    out    she 

brake: 
"Going?  and  we  shall  never  see  you 

more. 
And  I  must  die  for  vtant  of  one  bold 

word." 
"  Speak:  that  I  live  to  hear,"  he  said, 

''  is  yours." 
Then   suddenly   and    passionately   she 

spoke ; 
"  I  have  gone  mad.     I  love  you :  let 
mc  die." 


LANCKI.OT  AND  KLAINE 


'Ah,     sistrr,"     ansvvcrM      I.aiuclot, 

"  wliat  is  tins?  " 
And    iiinocfruly   extcniiinij  her   white 

arms, 
"  Vour  lovf,"  >li('  saiil,  "  \i.iir  love — 

to  be  your  witr.  " 
And     Lancelot     ansuer'd,     "  Had     I 

chosen   to  wed, 
I     hail     heen     ucdded    earlier,    sweet 

Klaine: 
But  now  there  nev.r  uill  be  wife  of 

mine.  " 
"  No,  no,"  she  cried,   "  I  care  not  to 

be   wife, 
But  to  be  with  you  still,   to  see  your 

face, 
To  serve  you,  and  to  follow  jou  thro' 

the  v\orld." 
And    Lancelot   answerM,    "  Nay,    the 

world,    the  world, 
All  car  and  eye,  with  such  a  stupid 

heart 
To  interpret  ear  and  eye,  and  such  a 

ton^^ue 
To    blare    its    own    intcrprctati(jn  — 

naj-, 
Full     ill     then    should     I     quit     your 

brother's  love, 
And    your    good    father's    kindness." 

And  she  said, 
"  Not  to  be  w  ith  you,  not  to  see  your 

face  — 
Alas  for  nie  then,  my  p,od   days  are 

done." 
"Nay,    noble    maid,"    he    answer'd, 

"  ten   times  na\  ! 
Thisis  not  love:  hut  love's  first  flash 

in  youth, 
-Most    common;    yea,    I    know    it    of 

mine  ou  n  self: 
And  you  yourself  will  smile  at  your 

oun   self 
Hereafter,  when  you  yield  vour  flower 

of  life 
To  one  more  fitly  yours,   not   thrice 

your  age: 
And  then  will  I,  for  true  you  are  and 
sweet 


.309 

Beyond    nunc   old    tieliet    in    woman- 
hood. 
More     speiially     should     your     ^'ood 

kni;;ht    be   poor, 
lindow  you  with  broad  land  and  terri- 
tory 
Kven  to  the  half  my  realm  beyond  the 

seas. 
So  that  would  make  ytm  happy:  fur- 
thermore, 
Kv'n  to  the  death,  as  tho'  ye  were  my 

blood. 
In   all    your   quarrels    uill    ]    be   your 

kni;;ht. 
This  will  I  do,  dear  damsel,  for  your 

sake. 
And  more  than  this  I  cannot." 

,.,  .  ,        ,  While  he  spoke 

Mie   neither    blush'd    nor    shook,    but 

<leathl>-pale 
Stood  grasping  what  was  nearest,  then 

replied  : 

"Of  all  this  will  I  nothing"  and  so 
fell, 

And  thus  they  bore  her  swooning  to 
her   tower. 

Then  spake,  tn  u  hen  thro'  those 
black  walls  of  >ew 

'I'lieir  talk  had  pierced,  her  father: 
"  A\c,  a  flash, 

I  fear  me,  that  will  strike  mv  blossom 
dead. 

Too  courteous  are  ye,  fair  Lord 
Lancelot. 

I  pray  you,  use  some  rough  discour- 
tesy 

To  blunt  or  break  her  passion." 

..  .^1  Lancelot  said, 

1  hat  were  agamst  me :  what  I  can  I 

will ;  " 
And  there  that  day  remaln'd,  and  to- 

ward  even 
Sent   for  his  shield:   full   meekly  rose 

the  maid, 


.■5'" 


IDYLLS  OF  TIIK  KING 


Stript  i)fF  tliP  CUM',  anil  i_'.ivi-  the  iiakij 

shield  ; 
Then,  wlirn  she  licarii  Ins  horx'  iiiniii 

the  stones, 
Unclasping   Hunt;   the  caseiiietit   hatk, 

an>l  look'd 
Down   on   his   hehii,    frnni    whuh   tier 

sleevp   hail    ^^one. 
And  I.ancchjt  knew  the  lutle  clinking 

smind  ,- 
And    stic    hy    tact    of    love    was    well 

aw  are 
'I'hat    l.aticelot    knew     that    she    was 

liKikinjj  at  hnn. 
And     yet     he    ^;laiucd     not     up,     nor 

waved   his  hand, 
Nor    hade    farewell,    hut    sadly    rode 

away. 
Ihis  was  tlic  one  discourtesy  that  he 

used. 


So  in  her  tower  alone  the  maiden 
sat: 

His  vpiy  sliield  was  ;:one ;  only  the 
ca^e. 

Her  oiMi  poor  work,  her  empty  lahor, 
left. 

Kut  still  ■-he  lieard  liim,  still  his  pic- 
ture   form'd 

And  iirvw  hetwcen  her  and  the  pic- 
tured   wall. 

Then  came  her  fatlier.  sayinjz  in  low 
tones, 

"  Have  comfort,"  whom  she  greeted 
quietly. 

Then  came  her  brethren  sayinjr, 
"  Peace  to  thee, 

Sweet  sister,"  whom  she  answer'd 
with  all  calm. 

But  when  they  left  her  to  herself 
apain, 

Death,  like  a  friend's  voice  from  a  dis- 
tant field 

Approaching  thro'  the  darkness, 
call'd  ;  the  owls 

Wailing  had  power  upon  her,  and 
she  mixt 


Her    f.mcics    with    tlie    sallow -rifted 

Klooms 
(  )f  evening,  and  the  moaiiinj^s  of  tiic 

w  ind. 

And  in  those  days  she  made  a  little 

song, 
.And  tall'il   her  son;:.   "The   Som;  of 

l.ove  and    De.iih." 
/\nd  sanK  it:  sweetly  could  she  make 

and  sing. 

"  Sweet   is  true   love   tho'   given   in 

vain,  in  vain  ; 
■And  sweet  is  death  who  puts  an  end 

to  pain  : 
I  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not 

I. 

"Love,  art  'nou  sweet?  then  hit- 
ter death  must  be; 

l.ove,  thou  art  bitter;  sweet  is  death 
to  me. 

( ),  Love,  if  (k'ath  he  sweeter,  let  nic 
die. 

"  Sweet  love,  that  seems  not  made 

to  fade  away, 
Sweet   (h'ath,   that    seems   to   make   us 

loveless  clay, 
I   kno\v  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  net 

I. 

"  I   fain  would   follow  love,  if  that 

co»i!d  he ; 
I  needs  must  follow  death,  who  calls 

for  me  ; 
Call   and   I   follow,   I    follow!   let  me 

die." 

High  with  the  last  line  scaled  her 
voice,  and  this. 

All  in  a  fiery  dawning  w  iKl  with 
w  ind 

That  shook  her  tower,  the  brothers 
heard,  and  thought 

With  shuddering,  "  Hark  the  Phan- 
tom   of    the    house 


LANCHI.frr  .\\l)  1,1  A  INK 


That   pvfr   sfirirks   before   a   death," 

anil  call'd 
The    tathrr,   and   all    ilirrr   m    hurry 

and   fear 
Ran    to   her,    and    lo!    the    bl(H)d-rcd 

light  of  dawn 
Flared    on    her    face,    she    •.hrilling. 

"Let  me  die!" 


As   ulirn    «e    dwell    upon    .1    word 
wc  lino« , 
Repeating,  till  the  word  wc  know  so 
well 

Becomes  a  wonder,  and  wo  know  not 

why, 
So  dwelt  fli-    father  r,n  lu-r  fare,  arid 

thoiight 
"Is     th's     Klaine?"     till     back     the 

maiden   fell, 
Then   Ktvc  a  languid   hand   to  each, 

and  lay, 
Speaking    a    still    good-morrow    with 

her  eyes. 
At    last    she    said,    "  S«  eet    brothers, 

yesternight 
I  seem'd  a  curious  little  maid  again. 
As  happy  as  when   we  dwelt  among 

the  woods. 
And  when  ye  used   to  take  me  with 

the  flood 
Up  the  great  river  in  the  boatman's 

boat. 
Only  ye  vvould  not  pass  beyond  the 

cape 
That  has  the  poplar  on  it:  there  ye 

fixt 
Vour   limit,   oft   returning   with    the 

tide. 
And  yet  I  cried  because  ye  would  not 

pass 
Beyond    it,    and    far   up   the   shining 

flood 
Until   we   found    the    palace   of    the 

King. 
And  yet  ye  would  not;  but  this  night 

I  dream'd 
That  I  was  all  alone  upon  the  flood. 


3«i 

An.!  then  I  said,  '  Now  shall  I   have 

my  will :  ' 
And  there  I   woke,  but  s..;.   the  wish 

lemain'd. 
So  let  me  hence  that   I   i,i.-iy  pas-,  at 

la<<t 
Beyond    the   poplar   and    far    up    the 

Hood, 

Until   I   (ind   the  palace  of  the  King. 
1  here   will    I    i-titt  r   in    aniong   tlinn 

all, 

And  no  man  there  will  dare  to  mock 
at   nie ; 

But  there  the  fine  Cawain  will   won- 
der at  me, 

And    there    the    great    Sir    Lancelot 
muse   at    me; 

(iawain,   who   bade   a   thousand    fare- 
wells to  me, 

Lancelot,  who  coldly  went,  nor  bade 
me  one: 

And    there   the   King  will   know    me 

and  my  love. 
And  there  the  Queen  herself  will  pity 
me. 

And  all  the  gentle  court  will  welcome 

me. 
And    after  my   long   voyage   I    shall 

rest!  " 

"  Peace,"  said  hr     father,  "  O  my 

child,  ye  seem 
Light-headed,  for  what  force  is  yours 

to  go 
So    far,    being    si.k?    and    wherefore 

would  ye  look 
On    this    proud    fellow    again,    who 

scorns   us   all .'  " 

Then    the    rough   Torre   began    to 
heave   and    move. 
And    bluster    into    stormy    sobs    and 
say, 

"  I  never  loved  him :  an  I  meet  with 

him, 
I  care  not  howsoever  great  he  be 
Then  will  I  strike  at  him  and  strike 

him  down. 


312 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Give  me  pood  fortune,  I  will  strike 

him  dead, 
For  this  discomfort  he  hath  done  the 

house." 

To  whom   the  gentle  sister  made 

reply, 
"  Fret  not  yourself,  dear  brother,  nor 

be  wroth, 
Seeing  i*^  is  no  more  Sir  x^ancelot's 

faui. 
Not  to  love  me,  than  it  Is  mine  to 

love 
Him  of  all  men  who  seems  to  me  the 

hiphest.'' 

"Highest?"    '.he   father   answer'd, 

echoing    "  highest?  " 
(He  meant   to  break  the  passion  in 

her)   "nay, 
Daughter,  I  know  not  what  you  call 

the  highest-; 
But  this  I  know,  for  all  the  people 

know  it, 
He  loves  the  Queen,  and  in  an  open 

shame : 
And    she    returns   his    love    in    open 

shame ; 
H   this   be    high,   what    is   it   to   be 

low  ?  " 

Then  spake  the  lily  maid  of  Asto- 

lat: 
"  Sweet  father,  all  too  faint  and  sick 

am  I 
For  anger:  these  are  slanders:  never 

yet 
Was   noble    man    but   made    ignoble 

talk. 
He  makes  no  friend  who  never  made 

a  foe. 
But  now  it  is  my  glory  to  have  loved 
One   peerless,   without   stain:  so   let 

me  pass, 
My  father,  howsoe'er  I  seem  to  you. 
Not  all  unhappy,  having  luved  God's 

best 


Anc"   greatest,    tho'  my  love  had   no 

return : 
Yet,  seeing  you  desire  your  child  to 

lii  e, 
Thanks,  but  you  work  against  /our 

o"vn  desire ; 
For  if  I  could  believe  the  things  you 

say 
I  should  but  die  the  sooner;  where- 
fore cease. 
Sweet  father,  and  bid  call  the  ghostly 

mar 
Hither,  and  let  me  shrive  me  clean, 

and  die." 


So    when    the    ghostly    man    had 

come  and   gone, 
She   with   a   face,   bright   as  for   sin 

forgiven. 
Besought    Lavaine    to    w.-ite    as    she 

devised 
A  letter,  word  for  word;  and  when 

he  ask'd, 
"  Is  it  for  Lancelot,  is  it  for  my  dear 

lord? 
Then    will    I    bear   it   gladly;"   she 

replied, 
"  For  Lancelot  and   the  Queen   and 

all  the  world, 
But  I   myself  must  bear  it."     Then 

he  wrote 
The  letter  she  devised;  which  being 

writ 
And  folded,  "  O  sweet  father,  tender 

and  true. 
Deny  me  not,"  she  said — "ye  never 

yet 
Denied    my    fancies  —  this,    however 

strange, 
My  latest:  lay  the  letter  in  my  hand 
A  little  ere  I  die,  and  close  '.'le  hand 
Upon   it;    I   shall   guard   it  even    in 

death. 
And  when  the  heat  Is  gone  from  out 

my  heart. 
Then  take  the  little  bed  on  which  I 

died 


For  Lancelot's  love,  end  deck  it  like 

the  Qu"en's 
For  richness,   and   me   also   like   the 

Queen 
In  «I1  I  have  of  rich,  and  lay  me  on 

It. 

And  let  there  be  prepared  i  chariot- 
bier 
To  take  me  to  the  river,  and  a  barge 
He    ready   on    the    river,   clothed    in 
black. 

I  go  in  state  to  court,  to  meet  the 

Queen. 
There  surely  I  shall  speak  for  mine 

own  self, 
And  none  of  you  can  speak  for  me  so 

well. 

And  therefore  let  our  dumb  old  man 

alone 
Go  with  me,  he  can  steer  and  row 

and  he  ' 

Will  guide  me  to  that  palace,  to  the 

doors." 


She   ceased:   her   father   promised; 

whereupon 
She     grew     so    cheerful     that     they 

deem'd  her  death 
Was  rather  in  the  fantasy  than  the 

blood. 
But  ten  slow  mornings  past,  and  on 

the  eleventh 
Her    father    laid    the    letter    in    her 

hand. 

And  closed  .he  hand  upon  it,  and  she 

died. 
So  that  day  there  was  dole  in  Astolat. 

But  when  the  next  sun  brake  from 

underground. 

Then,     those    two    brethren    slowly 
with  bent  brows 

Accompanying,    the    sad    chariot-bier 

rast   like   a  shadow   thro'   the   field 
that  shone 

Full-summer,  to  that  stream   where- 
on the  barge, 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 


313 

Pall'd    all    its    length    in    blackest 

^      samite,   lay. 

There  sat  the  lifelong  creature  of  the 

house, 

Loyal     the    dumb    old    servitor,    on 
deck. 

Winking  his  eyes,  and  twisted  all  his 
face. 

So    those    two    brethren    from    the 

chariot  took 
And  on  the  black  decb  laid  her  in 

her  bed. 
Set  in  her  hand  a  lily,  o'er  her  hung 
1  he  silken  case  with  braided  blazon- 

mgs. 
And  kiss'd  her  quiet  brows,  and  say- 

ing  to  her, 
"Sister,      farewell      forever,"      and 
again, 

"Farewell,  sweet  sister,"  parted  all 

in  tears. 
Then    rose    the    dumb    old    servitor 

and   the  dead,  ' 

Oar'd    by    the    dumb,   went   upward 

with  the  flood  — 
In  her  right  hand  the  lily,  in  her  left 
I  he    letter  — all     her    bright    hair 

streaming  down 

And   al!   the  coverlid   was  cloth  of 

gold 

Drawn  to  her  waist,  and  she  herself 
■n  white 

All  but  her  face,  and  that  clear-fea- 
tured  face 

Was  lovely,  for  she  did  not  seem  as 
dead. 

But  fast  asleep,  and  lay  as  the'  she 
smiled. 


That    day    Sir    Larcelot    at    the 

palace  craved 
Audience   of   Guinevere,    to   give   at 

last 
The  price  of  half  a  realm,  h.^i  costly 

gift,  ' 

Hard-won     and     hardly    -^on     with 

bruise  and  blow, 


3 '4 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


With    deaths   of   others,   ana   almost 

his  own, 
The  nine-y cars-fought- for  diamonds: 

for  he  saw 
One  of  her  house,  and  sent  him  to 

the  Queen 
Bearing  his  wish,  whereto  the  Queen 

agreed 
With  such  and  so  unmoved  a  majesty 
She   might    have    secm'd    her   statue, 

but  that  he, 
Low-drooping  till  he  wellnigh  kiss'd 

her  feet 
For  loyal  awe,  saw  with  a  sidelong 

eye 
The  shadow  of  some  piece  of  pointed 

lace. 
In    the   Queen's   shadow,   vibrate   on 

the  walls, 
And  parted,  laughing  in  his  courtly 

heart. 


All  in  an  oriel  on  the  summer  side. 
Vine-clad,  of  Arthur's  palace  toward 

the  stream. 
They  met,  and  Lancelot  kneeling  ut- 

ter'd,  "  Queen, 
Lady,  my  liege,  in  whom  I    !ave  my 

joy. 
Take,  what  I  had  not  won  except  for 

you, 
These   jewels,   and   make   me   happy, 

making  them 
An  armlet   for  the  roundest  arm  on 

earth, 
Or  necklace  for  a  neck  to  which  the 

swan's 
Is   tawnier   t.ian   her  cygnet's:   these 

are  words: 
Your   beauty   is  your  beauty,   and    I 

sin 
In  speaking,  yet  O  grant  my  worship 

of  it 
Words,     as    we     grant    grief    tears. 

Such   sin    in   words 
Perchance,  we  both  can  pardon:  but, 

my   Queen, 


I    hear  of  rumors  flying  thro'  your 

court 
Our  bond,  as  not  the  bond  of  man 

and  wife. 
Should  have  in  it  an  absoluter  trust 
To  make  up  that  defect:  let  rumors 

be: 
When  did  not  rumors  fly?  these,  as 

I    trust 
That    you    trust    me    in    your    own 

nobleness, 
I    may    not    well    believe    that    you 

believe." 

While   thus  he  spoke,  half  turn'd 

away,  the  Queen 
Brake   from   the  vast  oriel-embower- 
ing  vine 
Leaf   after   leaf,   and   tore,   and   cast 

them  off. 
Till  all  the  place  whereon  she  stood 

was  green ; 
Then,   when   he  ceased,   in   one   cold 

passive  hand 
Received   at  once  and   laid  aside  the 

gems 
There    on    a    table    near    her,    and 

replied : 

"  It  may  be,  I  am  quicker  of  belief 
Than    you    believe   me,    Lancelot   of 

the  Lake. 
Our   bond   is  not   the  bond  of  man 

and    wife. 
This   good   is  in   it,  whatso'er  of  ill, 
It  can  be  broken  easier.     I  for  you 
This  many  a  year  have  done  despite 

and  wrong 
To  one  whom  ever  in  my  heart  of 

hearts 
I    did    acknowledge    nobler.     What 

are   these? 
Diamonds    for    me!    they    had    been 

thrice  their  worth 
Being    your    gift,    had    you    not    lost 

your  own. 
To  loyal  hearts  the  value  of  all  gifts 


Must  vary  as  the  giver's.     Not  for 

me! 
For  her!  for  your  new    fancy.     Only 

this 
Grant   me,    I    pray  you:    have   your 

joys  apart. 
I   doubt  not   that  however  changed, 

you  keep 

So   much    of   what   is   graceful:   and 

myself 
Would  shun  to  break  those  bounds  of 

courtesy 
In  which  as  Arthur's  Queen  I  move 

and    rule: 
So  cannot  speak  my  mind.     An  end 

to  this! 
A  strange  one!  yet   I   take   it   with 

Amen. 
So   pray   you,    add   my    diamonds   to 

her  pearls; 
Deck   her   with    these;   tell   her,   she 

shines  me  down: 
An  armlet  for  an  arm  to  which  the 

Queen's 
Is  haggard,  or  a  necklace  for  a  neck 
O  as  much  fairer  —  as  a  faith  once 

fair 
Was   richer   than    these   diamonds  — 

hers  not  mine  — 
Nay,  by  the  mother  of  our  Lord  him- 
self, 
Or  hers  or  mine,  mine  now  to  work 

my  will 
She  shall  not  have  them." 

,  Saying  which   she  seized, 
And,    thro     the    casement    standing 

wide  for  heat, 
Flung  them,  and   down   they  flash'd, 

and  smote   the  stream. 
Then      from     the     smitten      surface 

flash'd,  as  it  were, 
Diamonds    to    meet    them,    and    they 

past  away. 
Then    while    Sir   Lancelot    leant,    in 

half  disdain 
At    love,    life,    all    things,    on    the 

window  ledge. 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 


2^5 

Close  underneath  his  eyes,  and  right 

across 
Where  these  had   fallen,  slowly  past 

the  barge 
Whereon  the  lily  maid  of  Astolat 
Lay  smilmg,   like  a  star  in   blackest 

night. 

But  the  wild  Queen,  who  saw  not, 
burst  away 

To  weep  and  wail  in  secret;  and  the 
barge, 

On    to    the    palace-doorway    sliding 

paused. 
There  two  stood  arm'd,  and  kept  the 

door;  to  whom. 
All    up   the   marble   stair,    tier   over 

tier, 
Were  added  mouths  that  gaped,  and 

eyes  that  ask'd, 
"What   is   it?"    but   that   oarsman's 

haggard    face. 
As  hard  and  still  as  is  the  face  that 

men 
Shape     to     their     fancy's    eye     from 

broken  rocks 
On    sorne    cliti-side,    appall'd    them, 

and  they  said, 
'  He   IS   enchanted,    cannot   speak  — 

and  she. 
Look    how    she    sleeps  — the    Fairy 

Queen,  so  fair! 
■Vea,   but  how  pale!  what  are  they? 

flesh  and  blood? 
Or  come  to  take  the  King  to  Fairy- 
land ? 

For  some  do  hold  our  Arthur  cannot 
die, 

But   that  he   passes  into   Fairyland." 

While   thus    they    babbled    of    the 

King,  the  King 
Came  girt  with  knights:  then  turn'd 

the  tonguelcss  man 
From   the  half-face   to   the   full   eye, 

and  rose 
And  pointed  to  the  damsel,  and  the 

doors. 


;^l6 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


So     Arthur     bade     the     meek     Sir 

Percivale 
And  pure  Sir  Galaliad  to  uplift  the 

maid  ; 
And    reverently    they   bore   her    into 

hall. 
Then    came    the    fine    Gawain    and 

wonder'd  at  her, 
And  Lancelot  later  came  and  mused 

at  her, 
And    last    the    Queen    herself,    and 

pitied  her: 
But  Arthur  spied   the  letter   in  her 

hand, 
Stoopt,  took,  brake  seal,  and  read  it; 

this  was  all: 

"  Most  noble  lord,  Sir  Lancelot  of 

the  Lake, 
I,  sometime  call'd  the  maid  of  Asto- 

lat, 
Com.e,    for   you    left    me    taking   no 

farewell. 
Hither,   to  take  my  last  farewell  of 

you. 
I    loved    you,    and    my    love    had    no 

return. 
And  therefore  my  tiue  love  has  been 

my  death. 
And    therefore   to   our   Lady   Guine- 
vere, 
And    to    all    other    ladies,    I    make 

moan : 
Pray    for    my    soul,    and    yield    me 

burial. 
Pray    for    my    soul    thou,    too,    Sir 

Lancelot, 
As  thou  art  a  knight  peorless." 

Thus  he  read ; 
And  ever  in  the   reading,   lords  and 

dames 
Wept,    looking   often    from    his   face 

who  read 
To  hers  which  lay  so  silent,    tnd  at 

times, 
So  touch'd   were   they,   half-thinking 

that  her  lips, 


Who  had  devised  the  letter,  moved 
again. 

Then  freely  spoke  Sir  Lancelot  to 
them  all ; 

"  My  lord  liege  Arthur,  and  alt  ye 
that  hear. 

Know  that  for  this  most  gentle  maid- 
en's death 

Right  heavy  an.  I ;  for  good  she  was 
and  true. 

But  loved  me  with  a  love  beyond  all 
love 

In  women,  whomsoever  I  have 
kni'    ■ . 

Yet  to  be  loved  makes  not  to  love 
again ; 

Not  at  my  years,  however  it  hold  in 
youth. 

I  swear  by  truth  and  knighthood 
that  I  gave 

No  cause,  not  willingly,  for  such  a 
love: 

To  this  I  call  my  friends  in  testi- 
mony, 

Her  brethren,  and  her  father,  who 
himself 

Besought  me  to  be  plain  and  blunt, 
and  use, 

To  break  her  passion,  some  discour- 
tesy 

Against  mv  nature:  what  I  could,  I 
did. 

I  left  her  and  I  bade  her  no  farewell ; 

Tho'  had  I  dreamt  the  damsel  would 
have  died, 

I  might  have  put  my  wits  to  some 
rough    use. 

And  help'd  ner  from  herself." 

Then  sjid  the  Queen 
(Sea   was    her    wrath,    yet    working 

after  storm) 
"  Ye  might  at  least  have  done  her  so 

much  grace. 
Fair  lord,  as  would  have  help'd  her 

from  her  death." 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE 


He   raised   his   head,   their  eyes  met 

and  hers  fell, 
He  adding, 

"  Queen,  she  would  not  he  content 
Save  that  I  wedded  her,  which  could 

not   be. 
Then  might  she  follow  mc  thro'  the 

world,  she  ask'd; 
It  could  not  be.     I  told  her  that  her 

love 
Was  but  the   flash  of  youth,  would 

darken  down 
To  rise  hereafter  in  a  stiller  flame 

Toward  one  more  worthy  of  her 

then  would   I, 
More  specially  were  he,  she  wedded, 

poor, 
Estate  them  with  large  land  and  ter- 
ritory 
In  mine  own  realm  beyond  the  nar- 
row seas. 
To   keep  them   in  all  joyance:  more 

than  this 
I  could  not;  this  she  would  not,  and 
she  died." 

He  pausing,  Arthur  answer'd, 
"  O  my  knight. 

It  will  be  to  thy  worship,  as  my 
knight. 

And  mine,  as  head  of  all  our  Table 
Round, 

To  see  that  she  be  buried  worship- 
fully." 

So  toward  that  shrine  which  then 
in  all  the  realm 

Was  richest,  Arthur  leading,  slowly 
went 

The  marshal'd  Order  of  their  Table 
Round, 

And  Lancelot  sad  beyond  his  wont, 
to  sre 

The  maiden  buried,  not  as  one  un- 
known, 

Nor  meanly,  but  with  gorgeous  ob- 
sequies, 


And  mass,  and  rolling  music,  like  a 

queen. 
And   when  the  knights  had  laid  her 

comely  head 
Low    in    the    dust    of    half-forgotten 

kings, 
Ihen    Arthur    spake    among    them, 

"  Let  her  tomb 
Be    costly,     and     her     image     there- 
upon. 
And    let    the   shield   of   Lancelot    at 

her  feet 
Be  carven,  and  her  lily  in  her  hand. 
And    let    the    story   of    her    dolorous 

■ oyage 
For  all  true  hearts  be  blazon 'd  on  her 

tomb 
In    letters   gold    and    azure!"   which 

was  wrought 
Thereafter;  biit  when  now  the  lords 

and  dames 
And    people,    from    the    high    door 

streaming,   brake 
Disorderly,    as    homeward    each,    the 

Queen, 
Who  ma.k'd  Sir  Lancelot  whe-e  he 

moved  apart, 
Drew    near,    and    sigh'd    in    passing, 

"  Lancelot, 
Forgive    me;    mine    was   jealousy    in 

love." 
He  answer'd  with  his  eyes  upon  the 

ground, 
"That  is  love's  curse;  pass  on,  my 

Queen,   forgiven." 
But  Arthur,   who  beheld   his  cloudy 

brows, 
Approach 'd  him,  and  with  full  affec- 
tion said, 

"  Lancelot,   my    Lancelot,    thou   in 

whom  I  have 
Most   joy   and    most   affiance,    for    I 

know 
What  thou  hast  been  in  battle  by  my 

side. 
And  many  a  time  have  watch'd  thee 

at  the  tilt 


3'» 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Strike  down  the  lusty  and  long  prac- 
tised knight, 
And  let  the  younger  and  unskiU'd  go 

by 

To  win  his  honor  and   to  make  his 

name, 
And  loved  thy  courtesies  and  thee,  a 

man 
Made  to  be  loved ;  but  now  I  would 

to  God, 
Seeing  the  homeless  trouble  in  thine 

eyes, 
Thou  couldst  have  loved  this  maiden, 

shaped,   it  seems, 
By    God    for    thee    alone,    and    from 

her  face, 
If  one  may  judge  the  living  by   the 

dead. 
Delicately      pure      and      marvelously 

fair. 
Who  might  have  brought  thee,  now 

a   lonely   man 
Wifeless    and    heirless,    noble    issue, 

sons 
Born   to  tlie  glory  of  thy  name  and 

fame. 
My  knight,  the  great  Sir  Lancelot  of 

the   Lake." 

Then    answer'd     Lancelot,    "  Fair 

she  was,  my  King, 
Pure,  as  you  ever  wish  your  knights 

to   be. 
To  doubt  iier  fairness  were  to  want 

an  eye. 
To  doubt  her  pureness  were  to  want 

a  heart  — 
Yea,  to  be  loved,  if  what  is  worthy 

love 
Could   bind   him,   but   free  love  will 

not  be  bound." 

"  Free  love,  so  bound,  were  freest," 

said  the  King. 
"  Let   love   be    free ;    free   love    is   for 

the  best: 
And,  after  heaven,  on  our  dull   side 

of  death. 


What  should  be  best,  if  not  so  pure  a 

love 
Clothed  in  so  pure  a  loveliness?  yet 

thee 
She   fail'd   to  bind,   tho'  being,  as  I 

think, 
Unbound    as   yet,   and    gentle,   as   I 

know." 


And    Lancelot    answer'd    nothing, 
but  he  went. 
And    at    the    inrunning    of    a    little 

brook 
Sat    by    the    river    in    a    cove,    and 

watch'd 
'''he  high    reed   wave,   and   lifted   up 

his  eyes 
And  saw  the  barge  that  brought  her 

moving  down. 
Far-off,  a  blot  upon  the  stream,  and 

said 
Low    in   himself,   "  Ah,   simple  heart 

and  sweet, 
"^'e  loved   me,  damsel,  surely  with  a 

love 
Far     tenderer     than     iny     Queen's. 

Prry   tor   thy  soul  ? 
Aye,    mat    will    L     Farewell,    too  — 

now  at  last  — 
Farewell,     fair     lily.     '  Jealousy     in 

love  ?  ' 
Not    rather    dead    love's    harsh    heir, 

jealous  pride? 
Queen,  if  I  grant  the  jealousy  as  of 

love, 
May  not  your  crescent  fear  for  name 

and  fame 
Speak,    as   it    waxes,    of   a   love    that 

wanes? 
Wliy    did    the    King    dwell    on    my 

name  to  me? 
Mine  own  name  shames  me,  seeming 

a  reproach, 
Lancelot,    whom    the    Lady    of    the 

Lake 
Caught    from    his    mother's    arms  — 
the  wondrous  one 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 


Who  passes  thro'   the  vision   of   the 

night  — 
She   chanted    snatches   of   mysterious 

hymns 
Heard    on    the   winding   waters,   eve 

and  morn 
She    kiss'd    me    saying,    "  Thou    art 

fair,  my  child, 
As   a  king's  son,"   and   often    in   her 

arms 
She    bare    me,    pacing   on    the    dusky 

mere. 
Would    she    had    drown 'd   me    in    it, 

where'er  it  be! 
For  w  hat  am  I  ?  what  profits  me  my 

name 
Oi  greatest  knight?     I  fought  for  it, 

and  have  it : 
Pleasure  to  have  it,  none;  to  lose  it, 

pam  ; 
Now  grown  a  part  of  me:  but  what 

use  in  it? 
To  make  men  worse  by  making  my 

sin  known  ? 
Or  sin  seem  less,  the  sinner  seeming 


Not   knowing  he  should   die  a  holy 
man. 


great ; 
AI?s,  for  Arthur's  greatest  knight,  a 

man 
Not  after  Arthur's   heart!     I   needs 

must  break 
These  bonds  that  sc  defame  me :  not 

without 
She  wills  it:  would  I,  if  she  will'd  it? 

nay. 
Who   knows?    but   if   I   would    not, 

then  may  God, 
I    pray    him,    send    a   sudden    Ang- ' 

down 
To  seize  me  by  the  hair  and  bear  me 

far. 

And  fling  me  deep  in  that  forgotten 

mere. 
Among  the  tumbled  fragments  of  the 


So    groan'd    Sir    Lancelot    in    re- 
reinnrseful   pain, 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 

From    noiseful    arms,    and    acts    of 

prowess  done 
In  tournament  or  tilt.  Sir  Percivale, 
Whom    Arthur    and    his    knighthood 

call'd    The  Pure, 
Had    pass'd    into    the    silent    life    of 

prayer. 
Praise,  fast  and  alms;  and  leaving  for 

the  cowl 
The  helmet  in  an  abbey  far  away 
From   Camelot,   there,   and   not  long 

after,    died. 

And    one,    a    fellow-monk  among 

the  rest, 
Ambrosiu;,    loved   him   much   beyond 

the  rest. 
And  honor'd  him,  and  wrought  into 

his  heart 
A    way    by    love    that    waken 'd    love 

within. 
To  answer  that  which  came:  and  as 

they  sat 

Beneath  a  world-old  yew-tree,  dark- 
ening  half 

The  cloisters,  on  a  pustful  April 
morn 

That  puff'd  the  swaying  branches 
into  smoke 

Above  them,  ere  the  summer  when 
he   died. 

The  monk  Ambrosius  question'd 
Percivale: 

"  O  brother,  I  have  seen  this  yew- 
tree   smoke, 

Spring  after  spring,  for  half  a  hun- 
dred  years: 

For  never  have  I  known  the  world 
without. 

Nor  ever  stray 'd  beyond  the  pale: 
but   thee, 


320 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


When    first    thou    earnest  —  such    a 

courtesy 
Spake    thro'    the    limbs    and    in    the 

voice  —  I  knew 
For  one  of  those  who  cat  in  Arthur's 

hall; 
For  good  ye  are  and  bad,  and  like  to 

coins, 
Some  true,  some  light,  but  every  one 

ot  you 
Stamp'd  with  the  image  of  the  King; 

and  now 
Tell  me,   what  drove  thee  from  the 

Table  Round, 
My  brother ?  was  it  earthly  passion 

crost?" 

"Nay,"  said   the  knight;  "for  no 

such  passion  mine. 
But    the    sweet    vision    of    the    Holy 

Grail 
Drove  me  from  all  vain  glories,  rival- 
ries, 
And   earthly   heats    that   spring   and 

sparkle  out 
Among  us  in  the  jousts,  while  women 

watch 
Who  wins,  who  falls;  and  waste  the 

spiritual   strength 
Within     us,     better    ofler'd    up    to 

Heaven." 

To  whom  the  monk:  "The  Holy 

Grail!  —  I   trust 
We  are  green  in   Heaven's  eyes;  but 

here  too  much 
Wc  molder  —  as  to  things  without  I 

mean  — 
Yet  one  of  your  own  knights,  a  guest 

of  ours. 
Told  us  of  this  in  our  refectory, 
But  spake  with  such  a  sadness  and  so 

low 
We  heard  not  half  of  what  he  said. 

What  is  it? 
The   phantom   of   a  cup  that  comes 

and  goes? " 


"Nay,    monk!    what    phantom?" 

answer'd  Percivale. 
"  The  cup,  the  cup  itself,  from  which 

our    Lord 
Drank  at  the  last  sad  supper  with  his 

own. 
This,  from  the  blessed  land  of  Aro- 

mat  — 
After  the  day  of  darkness,  when  the 

dead 
Went  wandering  o'er  Moriah  —  the 

good  saint 
Ariniatha?an       Joseph,       journeying 

brought 
To   Glastonbury,    where   the   winter 

thorn 
Blossoms   at    Christmas,    mindful    of 

our   Lord. 
And  there  awhile  it  bode;  and  if  a 

man 
Could  touch  or  see  it,  he  was  heal'd 

at  once. 
By  faith,  of  all  his  ills.     But  then  the 

times 
Grew  to  such  evil  that  the  holy  cup 
Was   caught   away   to    Heaven,    and 

disappear'd." 


To  whom  the  monk :  "  From  our 
old  books  I  know 

That  Joseph  came  of  old  to  Glaston- 
bury, 

And  there  the  heathen  Prince,  Arvi- 
ragus, 

Gave  him  an  isle  of  marsh  whereon 
to  build ; 

And  there  he  built  with  wattles  from 
the  marsh 

A  little  lonely  church  in  days  of 
yore. 

For  so  they  say,  these  books  of  ours, 
but  seem 

Mute  of  this  miracle,  far  as  I  have 
read. 

But  who  first  saw  the  holy  thing  to- 
day?" 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 


"A  woman,"   answer'd    Pcrcivale, 
"  a  nun, 
And  one  no  further  off  in  hlcod  from 

me 
Than   sister;  and   if  ever  holy  maid 
With    knees   of   adoration    vore    the 

stone, 
A    holy    maid;    tho'    never    maiden 

glow'd, 
But  that  was  in  her  earher  maiden- 
hood, 
With  such  a  fervent  flame  of  human 

love. 
Which        being       rudely       blunted, 

glanced  and  shot 
Only   to  holy   things;   to  prayer  and 

praise 
She  gave  herself,   to   fast  and   alms. 

And  yet, 
Nun  as  she  was,   the  scandal  of  the 

Court, 
Sin    against   Arthur    and    the    Table 

Round, 
And  the  strange  sound  of  an  adulter- 
ous race. 
Across  the  iron  grating  of  her  cell 
Beat,   and  she  pray'd   and  fasted  all 
the  more. 


That    now    the    Holy    Grail    would 

come  again  ; 
But  sin  broke  out.     Ah.  Christ,  that 

It  would  come. 
And    heal    the    world    of    all    their 

wickedness! 
'O    Father!'    asked      the      maiden, 

■  might  It  come 
To    me     by    prayer    and     fasting?' 

'  Nay,'  said  he, 
'  I   know   not,    for  thy  heart  is  pure 

as  snow.' 
And    so    she   pray'd    and    fasted,    till 

the   sun 
Shone,  and  the  wind  blew,  thro'  her, 

and  I  thought 
She    might    have    risen    and    floated 

when  I  saw  her. 


"And   he   to   whom   she  told   her 
sins,  or  what 
Her  all  but  utter  whiteness  held  for 
sin, 

A  man  well-nigh  a  hundred  winters 

old, 
Spake    often    with    her   of   the    Holy 

Grail, 
A  legend  handed  down  thro'  five  or 

six. 
And  each  of  these  a  hundred  winters 

old, 
From    our   Lord's   time.     And   when 

King  Arthur  made 
His    Table    Round,    and    all    men's 

hearts  became 
Clean    for   a   season,   surely   he    had 

thought 


"  For  on  a  day  she  sent  to  speak 
with  me. 

And  when  she  came  to  speak,  behold 
her  eyes 

Beyond  my  knowing  of  them,  beauti- 
ful, 

Beyond   all   knowing  of  them,   won- 
derful, 
Beautiful  in   the  light  of  holiness. 
And     O  my  brother   Percivale,'  she 

said, 
'Swe^t    brother,    I    have    seen    the 

Holy  Grail: 
For,    waked    at    dead    of    night,    I 

heard  a  sound 
As   of   a   silver   horn    from   o'er   the 

hills 
Blown,    and    I   thought,    "  It   is   not 

Arthur  s  use 
To    hunt    by    moonlight;"    and    the 

slender  sound 
As  from  a  distance  beyond   distance 

grew 
Coming    upon    me  — O    never   harp 

nor  horn, 
Nor  aufeht  we  blow  with  breath,  or 

toucli  with  hand. 
Was  like  that  music  as  it  came;  and 

then 


m 


322 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Streani'd    thro'    my   cell    a   cold    and 

silver  beam, 
And   down   the   lon^;  beam   stole   the 

Holy  Grail, 
Rose-red    with    beatings   in    it,    as    if 

alive. 
Till  all   the  white  walls  of  my   cell 

were  dyed 
With  rosy  colors  leaping  on  the  wall: 
And   then   the  music   faded,   and   the 

Grail 
Past,  and  the  beam  decay 'd,  and  trom 

the  walls 
The    rosy    quiverings    died    into    the 

night. 
So  now  the  Holy  Thing  is  here  again 
Among  us,  brother,  fast  thou  too  and 

pray, 
And  tell  thy  brother  knights  to  fast 

and  pray, 
That  so  perchance  the  vision  may  be 

seen 
By  th''e  and  those,  and  all  the  world 

be   heal'd.' 

"  Then  leaving  the  pale  nun,  I 
spake  of  this 

To  all  men;  and  myself  fasted  and 
pray'd 

Always,  and  many  among  us  many 
a  week 

Fasted  and  pray'd  even  to  the  utter- 
most, 

F^xpectant  of  the  wonder  that  would 
be. 

"  And    one   there   was   smong   us, 

ever  moved 
Among  us  in  white  armor,  Galahad. 
'  Ciod    make    thee    good    as    thou   art 

beautiful,' 
Said    Arthur,    when    he    dubb'd    him 

knight;  and  none, 
In  so  young  youth,  was  ever  made  a 

knight 
Till    Galahad;    and    this    Galahad, 

when   he  heard 


My    sister's    vision,    fill'd    me    with 

amaze ; 
ilis    eyes    became    so     ike    her    own, 

they  seem'd 
Hers,  and  himself  her  brother  more 

than  I. 

"  Sister  or  brother  none  had  he; 
but  some 

Call'd  him  a  son  of  Lancelot,  and 
some  said 

Begotten  by  enchantment — chatter- 
ers they. 

Like  birds  of  passage  piping  up  and 
down, 

That  gape  for  flies  —  we  know  not 
whence   they  come  ; 

For  when  v\as  Lancelot  wander- 
ingly   lewd? 

"  But  she,  the  wan  sweet  maiden, 

shore  away 
Clean    from    her    forehead    all    that 

wealth  of  hair 
Which   made   a  silken   mat-work   for 

her  feet ; 
And    out    of    this   she    plaited    broad 

and  long 
A  strong  sword-belt,  and  wove  with 

silver  thread 
And   crimson    in   the   belt   a  strange 

device, 
A     crimson     grail     witliin     a     silver 

beam ; 
And  saw   the  bright  boy-knight,  and 

bound  it  on  him, 
Saying,    '  My    knight,    my    love,    my 

knight  of   heaven, 
O  thou,  my  love,  whose  love  Is  one 

with  mine, 
I,  maiden,   round  thee,  maiden,  bind 

my  belt. 
Go  forth,  fjf  thou  shalt  see  what  I 

have  seen'. 
And    break    thro*    all,    till    one    will 

crown  thee  king 
Far  in  trie  spiritual  cit\  ;  '  and  as  she 

spake 


Till':  HOLY  GRAIL 


3^3 


She  sent  the  deathless  passion  in  her 
eyes 

Thro'  him,  and  made  him  hers,  and 
laid   her  mind 

On  hi  n,  and  he  believed  m  her  be- 
lief. 

"Then  came  a  year  of  miracle:  O 
brother. 

In  our  great  hall  there  stood  a  va- 
cant cFiair, 

Fashion'd  by  .Merlin  ere  he  past 
away, 

And  carvcn  with  stran;;e  fii,'ures; 
and  in  and  out 

The  fiijures,  liLe  a  serpent,  ran  a 
scroll 

Ot  letters  in  a  tongue  no  man  could 
read. 

And  Merlin  call'd  it  'The  Siege  per- 
ilous,' 

Perilous  for  good  and  ill ;  '  for  there,' 
he  said, 

'  No  man  could  sit  but  he  should 
lose   himself:  ' 

And  once  by  misadvertence  Merlin 
sat 

In  his  own  chair,  and  so  was  lost; 
but  he, 

Galahad,  when  he  heard  of  Merlin's 
doom. 

Cried,  '  If  I  lose  myself,  I  save  my- 
self! ' 

"Then  on  a  summer  night  it  cane 

to  pass, 
While    the    f;reat    banquet    lay    alcng 

the  hall, 
That    Galahad    would    sit    down    in 

Merlin's  chair. 

"  And  all  at  once,  as  there  we  sat, 
we  heard 
A  cracking  and  a  riving  of  the  roofs, 
And   rending,  and  a  blast,  and  over- 
head 
Thunder,  and  in  the  thunder  was  a 
crv. 


And   in   the  blast   there   smote   along 

the  hall 
A    beam   of    light    seven    times   more 

clear  than  day: 
And   down    the   long  beam   stole  the 

Holy  Grail 
All    over    cover'd    with    a    luminous 

cloud. 
And  none  might  see  who  bare  it,  and 

it  past. 
But  every  knight  beheld   his  fellow's 

face 
As   in   a   glory,   and    all    the   knights 

arose, 
And  staring  each  at  other  like  dumb 

men 
Stood,  till  I  found  a  voice  and  sware 

a  vow. 

"  I  sware  a  vow  before  them  all, 

that   I, 
Because    I    had    not   seen    the    Grail, 

would    ride 
A  twelvemonth  and  a  day  in  quest  of 

it, 
Until    I    found    and    saw    it,    as    the 

nun 
My  sister  saw  it ;  and  Galahad  sware 

the  vow. 
And    good    Sir   Bors,    our    Lancelot's 

cousin,   sv\are. 
And     Lancelot     sware,     and     many 

among  the  knights. 
And     Gawain     sware,     and     louder 

than  the  rest." 

Then  spake  the  monk  Ambrosius, 
asking  him, 
"What  said  the  King?     Did  Arthur 
take  the  vow  ?  " 

"  Nay,    for   my   lord,"  said    Perci- 

vale,  "  the  King, 
Was  not  in  hall:  for  early  that  same 

day. 
Scaped  thro'  a  cavern  from  a  bandit 

hold, 


.124 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


An  oiitraKcd  maiJcn  sprang  Into  the 

hall 
Cryiruc  on   help:   for   iill   hrr  shininK 

hair 
Was  smrar'd   with  earth,  and  either 

milky  arm 
Red-rent  wit.i  hooks  of  hramble,  and 

all  she  wore 
Torn   as  a  sail    that   leaves  the   rope 

is  torn 
In   tempest:   so   the   Kinu  arose   and 

went 
To    smoke    the    scandalous    hive    of 

tllosp   wild    her-, 
That  ma<lc  such  honey  in  his  realm. 

How  beit 
Some    'ittle    of    this    marvel    he    too 

saw, 
Returning   o'er    the    plain    that    then 

bcKan 
To   darken    ur..!er   Camelot ;   whence 

the  King 
Lcok'd  up,  calling  aloud,  '  Lo,  there! 

the   roofs 
Of  our  great  hall  are  roll'd  in  thun- 

der-siiKikcl 
Pray  Heaven,  they  be  not  smitten  by 

the  bolt.' 
For  dear  to  Arthur  wa."-  tliat  hall  of 

ours, 
As  Iiaving  there  so  oft  with  all   his 

knights 
Feasted,   and   as  the   stateliest  under 

heaven. 


"  O  brother,  had  you  known  our 
mighty  hall, 

Which  Merlin  built  for  Arthur  long 
ago! 

For  all  the  sacred  mount  of  Came- 
lot, 

And  all  the  dim  rich  city,  roof  by 
roof, 

Tower  after  tcwer,  spire  beyond 
spire, 

By  grove,  and  garden-lawn,  and 
rushing  brook, 


Climbs  to  the  mighty  hall  that  Mer- 
lin built. 
And    four   great   zones   of   sculpture, 

set   betwixt 
With    many    a    mystic    symbol,    gird 

the  hall: 
And  in  the  lowest  beasts  are  slaying 

men. 
And   in   the  second    men   are  slaying 

beasts. 
And   on   the  third  are  wa.riors,  per- 
fect men, 
And    on    the    fourth    are    men    with 

growing   uings, 
And  o\er  all  one  statue  in  the  mold 
Of  Arthur,  made  by  Merlin,  with  a 

croun. 
And    pcak'd    wings    pointed    to    the 

Northern   Star. 
And  eastward  fronts   the  statue,  and 

the  crown 
And    both    the    wings    are    made    of 

gold,  and  flame 
At  sunrise  till  the  people  in  far  fields. 
Wasted    so    often     by     the     heathen 

hordes. 
Behold   it,  crying,   '  We  have  still  a 

King.' 


"  And,  brother,  had  you  known 
our  hall  within, 

Broader  and  higher  than  any  in  all 
the  lands! 

Where  twelve  great  windows  blazon 
Artliur's  wars. 

And  all  the  light  that  falls  upon  the 
board 

Streams  thro'  the  twelve  great  bat- 
tles of  our  King. 

Nay,  one  there  is,  anj  at  the  eastern 
end, 

Wealthy  with  wandering  lines  of 
mount  and  mere. 

Where  Arthur  finds  the  brand  Ex- 
calibur. 

And  also  one  to  the  west,  and  coun- 
ter to  it, 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 


And  blank:  and  who  shall  blazon  it? 

when  and  how  ?  — 
O    there,    penhanip,    when    all    our 

wars  arc  done, 
The    brand    Kxcalibur    will    be    cast 

away. 

"  So  to  this  hall  full  quickly  rode 
the  Kin^;, 
In   horror    lest    the   work   by    Merlin 

\v  rou^ht, 
Drcanilikr,     should     on     the     j    Iden 

vaiilsli,  wrapt 
Fn  unromorspful   folds  of  rolling  fire. 
And   in    he   rode,   and   up    I    glanced, 

and  saw 
The    golden    dragon    sparkling    over 

all: 
And   many  of   those  who   burnt  the 

hold,  their  arms 
Hack'd,   and    their    foreheads   grimed 

with  smoke,   and   sear':-, 
Follow'd,  and  in  among  bright  faces, 

ours. 
Full   of   the   vision,   prest:  and   then 

the  King 
Spake   to  me,   being  nearest,   '  Perci- 

vale,' 
(Because  the  hall  was  all  in  tumult 

—  some 
Vowing,  and  some  protesting),  'what 
is  this  ?  ' 


3»5 


"  O  brother,  when  I  told  him  what 

had  chanced. 
My  sister's  vision,  and  the  Test,  his 

face 
Darken'd,    as    I    have   seen    it   more 

than  once. 
When  some  brav<!  deed  seem'd  to  be 

done  in  vain. 
Darken ;     and     '  Woe     is    me,     my 

knights,'   he  cried, 
'  Had  I  been  here,  ye  had  not  sworn 

the  vow.' 
Bold  was  mine  answer,  '  Had  thyself 

been   here. 


My  King,  thou  wouidst  have  sworn.' 

'  Vea,  yra,'  said  he, 
'  Art  thou  so  bold  and  hast  not  seen 

the  CJrail  ?  ' 

Nay,  lord.  I  heard  the  sound,  I 

saw  the  light. 
But    since    I    did    not    sec    the    Holy 

Thing, 
I    sware   a  vow    to   follow   it   till    I 

saw.' 

"  Then  when  he  ask'd   us,  knight 

by  knight,  if  any 
Had   seen   it,   all   their  answers   v\ere 

as  one ; 
'  Nay,    lord,    and    therefore   have   we 

sworn  our  vows.' 

"  '  Lo    now,'    said    Arthur,    'ha\e 
ye  seen  a  cloud  .•" 
What  go  ye  into  the   wildtrness   to 
see?  ' 

"Then  Galahad  on  the  su' Jen, 
and  in  a  voice 

Shrilling  along  the  hall  'o  Arthur, 
call'd, 

'  But  I,  Sir  Arthur,  saw  the  Holy 
Grail, 

I  saw  the  Holy  Grail  and  heard  a 
cry  — 

"O  Galahad,  and  O  Gala.had,  fol- 
low me." ' 


"  '  Ah,  Galahad,  Galaliad,"  said  the 

King,  '  for  such 
As    thou   art   is   the  vision,    not   for 

these. 
Thy  holy  nun  and  thou  have  seen  a 

sign  ~ 
Holier   is  none,   my  Percivale,   than 

she  — 
A  sign  to  maim  this  Order  which  I 

made. 
But  ye,  that  follow  but  the  leader's 

bell ' 


326 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


(Brother,  the  King  was  hard  upon 
his  knif^hts) 

'  Talicssin  is  our  fullest  throat  of 
song, 

And  one  hath  sung  and  ail  the  dumb 
will  sing. 

Lancelot  is  Lancelot,  and  hath  over- 
borne 

Five  knights  at  once,  and  every 
younger  knight, 

Unproven,  holds  himself  as  Lance- 
lot, 

Till  overborne  by  one,  he  learns  — 
and  ye, 

What  are  ye?  Galahads?  —  no,  nor 
Percivalcs  ' 

(For  thus  it  pleased  the  King  to 
range  me  close 

After  Sir  Galahad);  'nay,'  said  he, 
'  but  men 

With  strength  .nd  will  to  right  the 
wrong'd,  of  power 

To  lay  the  s\idden  heads  of  violence 
flat. 

Knights  that  in  twelve  great  battles 
splash'd  and   dyed 

The  strong  Wh'te  Horse  in  his  own 
heathen  blood  — 

Bdt  one  hath  seen,  and  all  the  blind 
will  see. 

Go,  since  your  vcvs  are  sacred,  be- 
ing made: 

Yet  —  for  ye  know  the  cries  of  all 
my  realm 

Pass  thro'  this  hall  —  how  often,  O 
my  knights, 

Your  places  being  vacant  at  my 
side, 

This  chance  of  mble  deeds  will  come 
and  go 

ir.ijhallenged,  while  ye  follow  wan- 
dering fires 

Lost  in  the  quagmire!  Many  of 
you,  yea  most. 

Return  no  more:  }\  think  I  show 
myself 

Too  dark  a  prophet:  come  now,  let 
us  meet 


The  morroiv  morn  once  more  in  one 

full  field 
Of  gracious  pastime,  that  once  more 

the  King, 
Before  ye  leave  him   for  this  Quest, 

may  count 
The  yet-unbroken  strength  of  all  his 

knights, 
Rejoicing    in    that    Order    which    he 

made.' 

"  So  when  the  sun  broke  next  from 

under  ground, 
All    the    great    table    of    cur   Arthur 

closed 
And  clash'd  in  such  a  tourney  ana  so 

full, 
So  many  lances  broken  —  never  yet 
Had    Camclot    seen    i        like,    since 

Arthur  came: 
And    I    myself   and    Galahad,    for    a 

strength 
Was  in  us  from  the  vision,  overthrew 
So  many  knights  that  all  the  people 

cried, 
An  i    almost    burst    the    barriers    in 

their  heat. 
Shouting,  '  Sir  Galahad  and  Sir  Per- 

civale ! ' 

"  Tut    whrn    the    next    day    brake 

frc.Ti  un.lcr  ground  — 
O  brother,  had  you  known  our  Cam- 

elot. 
Built  by  old  kings,  age  after  age,  so 

old 
The  King  himself  had   fears  that   it 

would  fall, 
So  strange,   and   rich,   and   dim ;    for 

where   the   roofs 
Totter'd    toward    ench    other   in    the 

sky. 
Met  foreiieads  all  along  the  str,;et  of 

those 
Who   watch'd    us    pass ;    and    lower, 

and  where  the  long 
Rich    galleries,     lady-laden,    weigh'd 

the  ni'cks 


liiBam 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 


327 

Of    d«gons    clinging    to    the    crazy  Came  like  a  driving  gloom  across  my 

'"'■'stwirs'of'Ze/r'"    """'"'  '^''^"""">'  -''  ^^^  ^  '>^''  ^PO^cn 
r"-i|  jnce, 

Stride  "''''  '"'  •"'"  *"''  ''°^'  ^"'^  ""y  '^'l  ''^°"gf't  I  had  thought 
n-                    1-          .  of  old, 

swan""'         "'       ^^^°"'     ^"''^"'  ^"'^  '^"y  ^^'■'  '^"'l  I  ^ver  did 

At  all  the'  corners,  named  us  each  by  """"'t^t.T''  '  ''''  ^""'''^  "°^ 

Callinr-God    speed!'    but    in    the  ^"'^mySlf'   "'   "''"  ''"'   ^   ^""""^ 

TheT„?ghtsTnd    ladies    wept,    and  ^'""tho^s''    '"    '   '""'   °^  '-'   ^^^ 

For  grirf,  and  all  in  middle  street  the 


Q     rn, 
Who  lode  by   Lancelot,   wail'd   and 
shriek'd  aloud. 


And    on    I    rode,    and    when    I 
shriek'd  aloud,  thought  my  thirst 

'This  madness  has  come  on   us   for     ^^""'<1    slay    me,    saw    deep    lawns 
our  sins  '  and  then  a  brook, 


our  sins. 
So  to  the  Gate  of  the  three  Queens 
we  came, 


With    one    sharp    rapid,    where    the 
vve  came,  crisping  white 

"vVhere    Arthur's   wars   are    render'd      ^^^^'^   ^"^    ^^'=^   "Pon    the   sloping 
mvstiVallv  wave, 

And  took  both  ear  and  eye;  and  o'er 
the  brook 


mystically, 
And   thence   departed    ivery   one  his 
way. 


"And    I   was   lifted   up   in    heart, 
and  thought 


Of  all  my  late-shown  prou  ess  in  the 

listf  I 


lists. 

How    my    strong    lance    had    beaten 
down  the  knights, 


Were  apple-trees,  and  apples  by  the 

brook 
Fallen,   and   on   the  lawns.     'I  will 

rest  here,' 


said,    '  I    am    not    worthy    of    the 


Quest ; ' 
But  even   while  I  drank   the  brook, 
and  ate 


So    map-      ..id    famous    names;    and  ~,     ^^  ^^' 

ne\       yet  The   goodly   apples,    all    these   things 

Had    I     ,en    appear'd    so    blue,    nor  t-  11  *^  °"" 

earth  so  green,  Fell  into  dust,  and  I  was  left  alone, 

For  all  my  blood  danced  in  me,  and  "^""^  thirsting,  in  a  land  of  sand  and 

I  knew  thorns. 

That  I  should   light  upon  the   Holy 

"  And  then  behold  a  woman  at  a 

"Tur  King!'  '^'  '^"'^  ""^"'"^  °^  ^"'"{'^^  ^-\  f--  'he  house  where- 

'^''de'S  fire"  "°"''^  ^°"°"  "^"-  ^"' ^^  th^woman's  eyes  and  inno- 


328 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And    all   her   bearing   gracious;    and 

she  rose 
Opening   her    arms   to    meet    me,    as 

who  should  say, 
'  Rest  here ; '  but  when  I  touch'd  her, 

lol  she,  too. 
Fell  into  du«t  and  nothing,  and  the 

house 
Became    no    bettei     than    a    broken 

shed. 
And    in    it    a   dead    babe;   and    also 

thir 
Fell  into  dust,  and  I  \\as  left  alone. 


"  And  on  I  rode,  and  greater  was 

my  th'ist. 
Then   flasii'd   a  yellow   gleam   across 

the  world. 
And  where  it  smote  the  plowshare  in 

the  field, 
The  plowman  left  his  plowing,  and 

fell  down 
Before  it;  where  it  glitter'd  on  her 

pail. 
The  milkmaid  left  her  milking,  and 

fell  down 
Before  it,  and  I  knew  not  why,  but 

thought 
'  The  sun  is  rising,'  tho'  the  sun  had 

risen. 
Then  was  I  ware  of  one  that  on  me 

moved 
In    golden    armor   with   a  crown   of 

gold 
About  a  casque  all  jewels;   and  his 

horse 
In  golden  armor  jewel'd  everywhere: 
And  on   the  splendor  came,   flashing 

me  blind ; 
And   seem'd   to  me  the   Lord  of  all 

the  world, 
Being  so  huge.     But  when  I  thought 

he  meant 
To  crush  me,  moving  on  me,  lo!  he, 

too, 
Open'd  his  arms  to  embrace  me  as 

he  came, 


And  up  I  went  and  touch'd  him,  and 

he,  too, 
Fell  into  dust,  and  I  was  left  alone 
And  w  earying  in  a  land  of  sand  and 

thorns. 

■'  And    I    rode    on    and    found    a 

mighty  hill. 
And  on   the  top,  a  city  wall'd:  the 

spires 
Prick'd  with  incredible  pinnacles  into 

heaven. 
And  by  the  gateway  stirr'd  a  crowd; 

and  these 
Cried    to    me    climbing,  '  Welcome, 

Percivale! 
Thou     mightiest     and     thou     purest 

among  men!  ' 
And    glad    was    I    and    clomb,    but 

found  at  top 
No  man,  nor  any  voice.     And  thence 

I  past 
Far  thro'  a  ruinous  city,  and  I  saw 
That  mar.  '    J  once  dwtit  there;  but 

there  I  found 
Only  one  man  of  an  exceeding  age. 
'  Where    is    that    goodly    company,' 

said  I, 
'That  so  cried  out  upon  me?'  and 

he  had 
Scarce  any  voice  to  answer,  and  yet 

gasp'd, 
'Whence  and  what  art  thou?'  and 

even  as  he  spoke 
Fell  into  dust,  and  disappear'd,  and 

I 
Was  left  alone  once  more,  and  cried 

in  grief, 
'  Lo,  if  I  find  the  Holy  Grail  itself 
And   touch   it,   it  will  crumble   into 

dust.' 

"  And  thence  I  dropt  into  a  lowly 

vale. 
Low  as  the  hill  was  high,  and  where 

the  vale 
Was    lowest,    found    a    chapel,    and 

thereby 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 


A  holy  hermit  in  a  hermitage, 
To  whom  I  told  my  phantoms,  and 
he  said : 

'  O  son,  thou  hast  not  true  hu- 
mility, 

The  highest  virtue,  mother  of  them 
all; 

for  when  the  Lord  of  all  things 
made  Himself 

Naked  of  glory  for  His  mortal 
change, 

"  T,^^^   *''°"   "^y    robe,"   she   said, 
"  for  all  is  thine," 
And  all  her  form   shone  forth  with 

sudden  light 
So  that  the  angels  were  amazed,  and 

she 
Follow'd  Him  down,  and  like  a  fly- 
ing star 
Led    on    the   gray-hair'd    wisdom    of 

the  east ; 
But  her  thou   hast   not  known:   for 

what  is  this 
Thou  thoughtest  of  thy  prowess  and 

thy  sins? 
Thou   hast  not   lost   thyself   to   save 

thyself 
As     Galahad.'     When     the     hermit 

made  an  end, 
In    silver    armor    suddenly    Galahad 

shone 
Before    us,    and    against    the    chapel 

door 
Laid  lance,  and  entcr'd,  and  we  knelt 

in  prayer. 
And     there    tiie    hermit    slaked    my 

burning  thirst, 
And    at   the   sacring   of    the   mass    I 

saw 
The  holy  elements  alone;  but  he, 
'Saw  ye  no  more?     I,  Galahad,  saw 

the  Grail, 
The   Holy  Grail,   descend  upon   the 

shrine: 
I  saw  the  fiery  face  as  of  a  child 
T.'iat  smote  itself  into  the  bread,  and 
went; 


329 


And   hither  am   I   come;  and    never 
yet 

Hath  what  thy  sister  taught  me  first 

to  see. 
This    Holy    Thing,    faii'd    from    my 

side,  nor  come 
Cover'd,  but  moving  with  me  night 

and  day. 
Fainter    by   day,    but   alwaj-s    in    the 

night 
Blood-red,     and     sliding    down     the 

blacken'd   marsh 
Blood-red,  and  on   the  naked  moun- 
tain top 
Blood-red,  and   in   the  sleeping  mere 

below 
Blood-red.     And   in   the  strength  of 

this  I  rode, 
Shattering    all    evil    customs    every- 
where. 
And    past    thro'    Pagan    realms,  and 

made  them  mine. 
And  clash'd  with  Pagan  hordes,  and 

bore  them  down. 
And    broke    thro'    ^\l,    and    in    the 

strength  of  this 
Come  victor.     But  my  time  is  hard 

at  hand. 
And  hence  I  go;  and  one  will  crown 

me  king, 
Far  in   the  spiritual  city;  and   come 

thou,  too. 
For  thou  shalt  see  the  vision  when  I 
go.' 

"While    thus    he    spake,    his    eye, 

dwelling  on  mine. 
Drew  me,  with  power  upon  me,  till  I 

grew 
One    with    him,     to    believe    as    he 

believed. 
Then,  when  the  day  began  to  wane, 

we  went. 

"There  .ose  a  hill  that  none  but 
man  could  climb. 
Scarr'd     with     a     hundred     wintry 
water-courses  — 


330 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Storm    at    the    top,    and    when    we 

Kain'd  it,  storm 
Round     us     and     dcatli ;     for     every 

moment  glanced 
His    silver    arms    and    gloom'd:    so 

quick  and  thick 
The  lightnings  here  and  there  to  left 

and  right 
Struck,  till  the  dry  old  trunks  about 

us,  dead, 
^'ea,  rotten  with  a  hundred  years  of 

death. 
Sprang  into  fire:  and  at  the  base  we 

found 
On  either  hand,  as  far  as  eye  could 

see, 
A  great  black  swamp  and  of  an  evil 

smell. 
Part   black,    part    vvhiten'd   with   the 

bones  of  men. 
Not    to    be    crost,    save    that    some 

ancient  king 
Had  built  a  way,  where,  link'd  with 

many  a  bridge, 
A  thousand   piers  ran   into  the  great 

Sea. 
And  Galahad  fled  along  them  bridge 

by  bridge. 
And   every   bridge   as   quickly    as    he 

crost 
Sprang  into  fire  and  vanish'd,  tho'  I 

yearn'd 
To  follow;  and  thrice  above  him  all 

the  heavens 
Open'd    and     blazed    v\  ith     thunder 

Mich  as  s>;em'd 
Shoutings   of    all    the   sons   of   God : 

and  first 
At  once  I  saw  him  far  on  the  great 

Sea, 
In  silver-shining  armor  starry-clear; 
And   o'er  his   head   the   Holy   Vessel 

hung 
Clothed  in  white  samite  or  a   lumi- 
nous cloud. 
And    with    exceeding    swiftness    ran 
the  boat, 


li  boat  it  were — I  saw  not  whence 

it  came. 
And    when    the   heavens  open'd    and 

blazed    again 
Roaring,    i    saw    him    like    a    silver 

star  — 
And  had  he  set  the  sail,  or  had  the 

boat 
Become  a   living  creature   clad   with 

wings? 
And   o'er  his  head   the    Holy   Vessel 

hung 
Redder  than  any  rose,  a  joy  to  me. 
For  now   I    knew   the  veil  had   been 

withdrawn. 
Then  in  a  moment  when  they  blazed 

ag.'.i 
Opening,    I    saw    the    least   of   little 

stars 
Down    on    the    waste,    and    straight 

beyond  the  star 
I  saw  the  spiritual  city  and  all  her 

spires 
And    gateways   in    a    glory    like   one 

pearl  — 
No  iTger,   tho'   the   goal  of  all  the 

saints  — 
Strike    from    the  s"a;   and    from    the 

star  there  shot 
A  rose-red   sparkle   to  the  city,   and 

there 
Dwelt,  and  I  knew  it  was  the  Holy 

Grail, 
Which    never    eyes    on    earth    again 

shall  see. 
Then  fell  the  floods  of  heaven  drown- 
ing the  deep. 
And  how  ,ny  feet  recrost  the  death- 

ful  ridge 
No  memory  in  me  lives;  but  that  I 

touch'd 
The  chapel-doors  at   dawn   I   know; 

and   thence 
Taking  my  war-horse  from  the  holy 

man. 
Glad    that    no    phantom     vext    me 

more,    return'd 


THE  HOLY  GRAH. 


To    whence    I    came,    the    gate    of 
Arthur's   wars." 

"  O   brother,"  aslc'd  Ambrosius, — 
"  for  in  sooth 
These      ancient      books  —  and      they 

would   win   thee  —  teem. 
Only    I    find    not    there    this    Holy 

Grail, 
With    miracles   and    marvels    like    to 

these, 
Not   all    unlike;   which    oftentime    I 

read. 
Who  read  but  on  my  breviary  with 

ease, 
Till    my    head    swims;    and    then    go 

forth  and  pass 
Down  to  the  little  thorpe  that  lies  so 

close, 
And  almost  plaster'd  like  a  martin's 

nest 
To    these    old    walls  —  and    mingle 

with  our  folk; 
And    knowing   every    honest   face   of 

theirs 
As  well   as  ever  shepherd   knew   his 

sheep, 
And    every    homely    secret    in    their 

hearts, 
Delight  myself  with   gossip  and  old 

wives. 
And    ills    and    aches,    and    teethings, 

!yings-in. 
And  mirthful  sayings,  children  of  the 

place. 
That  have  no  meaning  half  a  league 

iiway : 
Or    lulling   random    squabbles   when 

they  rise, 
Chafierings    and    chatterings    at    the 

market-cross. 
Rejoice,    small    man,    in    this    small 

world  of  mine. 
Yea,  even  in  their  hens  and  in  their 

PRgs  — 
O  brother,  saving  this  Sir  Galahad, 
Came  ye  on   none  but   phantoms  in 
your  quest. 


33' 


No  man,  no  woman  ?  " 


Then   Sir   Percivale: 
All    men,    to    one    so    bound    by 
such  a  vow, 
And   women   were   as   phantoms.     O 

my  brother, 
Why  wilt  thou  shame  me  to  confess 

to  thee 
How   far    I    faltcr'd    from   my   quest 

and  vow  ? 
For  after  I  had  lain  so  manv  nights, 
A  bedmate  of  the  snail  and' eft  and 

snake. 
In  grass  and  burdock,  1  was  changed 

to  wan 
And  meager,  and  the  vision  had  not 

come ; 
And    then    I   chanced   upon  a  goodly 

town 
With  one  great  dwellii.j,'  in  the  mid- 
dle of  it; 
Thither  I  made,  and  there  was  I  dis- 

arm'd 
By    maidens    each    as    fair    as    any 

flower: 
But    when    they    lei    me    into    hall. 

behold. 
The  Princtss  of  that  castle  wa.s  the 

one, 
Brother,  and  that  one  only,  who  had 

ever 
Made   my    heart    leap;    for   when    I 

moved  of  old 
A    slender    page    about    her    father's 

hall. 
And   she   a   slender  maiden,   all    my 

heart 
Went  alter  her  with  longing:  yet  we 

twain 
Had  nc  ^r  kiss'd  a  kiss,  or  vow'd  a 

vow. 
And    now    I    came    upon    her,    once 

again. 
And  one  had  wedded  her,  and  he  Mas 

dead, 
And  all  his  land  and  wealth  and  state 
were  hers. 


;  J 


332 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And  while  I  tarried,  ever>-  day  she 
set 

A  banquet  richer  tlian  the  day  be- 
fore 

Hy  nie ;  for  all  her  longiiij;  and  her 
will 

Was  toward  me  as  of  old;  till  one 
fair  morn, 

I  walking  to  and  fro  beside  a 
stream 

That  fiaili'd  a'-ross  her  orchard 
undPiOeath 

Her  castle-walls,  she  stole  upon  my 
walk, 

And  calling  me  the  greatest  of  all 
knights. 

Embraced  me,  and  so  kiss'd  me  the 
first  time, 

And  gave  herself  and  all  her  wealth 
to  me. 

Then  I  reroember'd  Arthur's  warn- 
ing word, 

That  most  of  us  would  follow  wan- 
dering fires. 

And  the  Quest  faded  in  my  heart. 
Anon, 

The  heads  of  all  her  people  drew  to 
me, 

With  supplication  both  of  knees  and 
tongue: 

'We  have  heard  of  thee:  thou  art 
our   greatest   knight. 

Our  lady  says  it.  and  we  well  be- 
lieve: 

Wed  thou  our  Lady,  and  rule  over 
us. 

And  thou  shalt  be  as  Arthur  in  our 
land.' 

O  me,  my  brother!  but  one  night  my 
vow 

Burnt  me  within,  so  that  I  rose  and 
fled, 

But  wail'd  and  wept,  and  hated  mine 
own  self, 

And  ev'n  th-  Holy  Quest,  and  ah 
but  her; 

Then  after  I  was  join'd  with  Gala- 
had 


Cared  not  for  her,  nor  anything  upon 
c.rth." 

Then  said  the  monk,  "  Poor  men, 

when  yule  is  cold. 
Must  be  content  fo  sit  by  little  fires. 
And   this  am   I,  so  that  ye  care  for 

me 
Ever    so    little ;    yea,    and    blest    be 

Heaven 
That  brought  thee  here  to  this  poor 

house  of  ours 
Where  all  the  brethren  are  so  hard, 

to  warm 
My  cold  heart  with  a  friend:  but  O 

the  pity 
To    find    thine   ov/n    first    love    once 

more  —  to  hold, 
Hold    her    a    wealthy    bride    within 

thine  arms. 
Or    all    but    hold,    and    then  —  cast 

her  aside, 
Foregoing  all   her  sweetness,   like   a 

weed. 
For   we   that   want    the   warmth    of 

double  life, 
We  that  are  plagued  with  dreams  of 

something  sweet 
Beyond    all    sweetness    in    a    life    so 

rich, — 
Ah,  blessed  Lorii,  I  speak  too  earthly- 
wise, 
Seeing    I    never    stray'd    beyond    the 

cell, 
iiut   live   like   an   old   badger   in   his 

earth, 
With    earth    about   him    everywhere, 

despite 
All  fast  and  penance.     Saw  ye  none 

beside, 
None  of  your  knights?  " 

"Yea  so,"  said  Percivale: 
"  One   night    my   pathway   swerving 

east,  I  saw 
The  pelican  on  the  casque  of  our  Sir 

Bors 
All  in  the  middle  of  the  rising  moon: 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 


And  toward  him  spurr'd,  and  haiTd 

him,  and  he  me, 
And  each  made  joy  of  either;  ti.cn 

he  a-sk'd, 
'  Where  is  he?  hast  thou  seen  'ifm  — 

Lancelot?  —  Once,' 
Said    good    Sir    Bors, '  '  He    dash'd 

across  me —  :nad, 
And   maddening  what  he  rode:  and 

when  I  cried, 
"  Ridest    thou    then    so    hotly    on    a 

quest 
So    holy,"    Lancelot   shouted,    "Stay 

me  not! 
I  have  been  the  sluggard,  and  I  ride 

apace, 
For  now  there  is  a  lion  in  the  way." 
oo  vanish 'd.' 


222 


"  The,.  Sir  Bors  hat'  ridden  on 
aottly,  and  sorrowing  for  our  Lance- 
lot, 

Because  his  former  madness,  once  the 
talk 

And   scandal   of  our   table,   had    re- 
turn'd; 

For  Lancelot's  kith  and  kin  so  wor- 
ship  him 

That  ill    to  him   is  ill   to   them;   to 
rJors 

Beyond   the   rest:   he   well   had   been 
content 

Not  to  have  seen,  so  Lancelot  might 

have  seen. 
The  Holy  Cup  of  healing;  and,  in- 
deed, 

Being  so  clouded  with  his  grief  and 

love, 
Small  heart  was  his  after  the  Holy 

Quest: 
If  God  would  send  the  vision,  well : 

if  not, 
The  Quest  and  he  were  in  the  hands 

of  Heaven. 

"And  then,  with  small  adventure 
met,  Sir  Bors 


i^ode  to  the  lonest  tract  of  all  the 
realm, 

And    fend    a    people    there    among 

their  crags, 
Our  race  and  blood    a  remnant  that 

wtre  left 
Paynim   amid    their  circles,   and    the 

stones 
They   pitch   up   straight    to   heaven: 

and  their  wise  men 
^^  ere  strong  in  that  eld  magic  which 

can   trace 
The    wandering    of    the    stars,    and 

scoff  d  at  him 
And  this  high  Quest  as  at  a  simple 
thmg: 

Told      him      he      follow'd- almost 

Arthur  s  words  — 
A   mocking   f5re:    'What    other   fire 

than  he, 
Whereby    the    blood    beats,    and    the 

blossom  blov\s. 
And  the  sea  roUs,  and  all  the  world 

IS  warm'd?  ' 
And   when   his  answer  chafed   them 
th.    -nugh  crowd,  ' 

Hearin,     he   had    a    difference    with 

their  priests. 
Seized  him,  and  bound  and  plunged 

him  into  a  cell 
Of    great    piled    stones;    and    King 
bounden  there 

In      darkness      thro'       innumerable 
hours 

He  heard  the  hollow-ringing  heavens 
sweep 

Over    him    till    by    miracle  — what 
else  ?  — 

^^*^y  ?^  ''t  was,  a  great  stone  slipt 
and    fell, 

Such   as  no  wind   could   move:   and 

thro    the  gap 
Glimmer'd  the  streaming  scui:  then 

came  a  nijht 
Still  as  the  day  was  loud ;  and  thro' 

the  gap 

■^^VM^n'"""   ''""   of   Arthur's 
lable  Round  — 


"H 


■*1 


334 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


For,   brother,   so  one   night,    because 

they   roll 
Thro'   such   a   round   In   heaven,   we 

named  the  stars, 
Rejoicing    in    ourselves    and    in    our 

King  — 
And  these,  like  bright  eyes  of  famil- 
iar  friends. 
In  on  him  shone:  'And  then  to  me, 

to  me,' 
Said    good    Sir    Bors,    '  Beyond    all 

hopes  of   mine, 
VVho   scarce   had   pray'd   or   ask'd    it 

for  myself  — 
Across    the    seven    clear    stars  —  O 

grace  to  me  — 
In   color  like   the   fingers  of   a  hand 
Before   a   burning    taper,    the   s-weet 

Grail 
Glided   and   past,   and   close  upon  it 

peal'd 
A     sharp     quick     thunder.'     After- 
wards, a  maid, 
Who  kept  our  holy  faith  among  her 

kin 
In    secret,    entering,    loosed    and    let 

him  go." 

To    whom    the    monk:      'And    I 

remember  now 
That    pelican     on     the    casque:     Sir 

Bors  it  was 
Who  spake  so  low  and  sadly  at  our 

board ; 
And    mighty    reverent    at    our    grace 

was  he: 
A    square-set   man    and    honest;    and 

his  eyes. 
An  out-door  sign  of  all  the  warmth 

within, 
Smiled    with    his    lips  —  a    smile    be- 
neath  a   cloud, 
But  heaven  had  meant  it  for  a  sunny 

one: 
Aye,  aye.   Sir  Bors,  who  else?     But 

w  hen  ye  reach'd 
The  city,   found  ye  all  your  knights 

return'd, 


Or    was    there    sooth    in    Arthur's 

prophecy. 
Tell    me,   and    what   said   each,   and 

what  the  King?" 

Then  answer'd   Percivale:     "And 

that  can  I, 
Brother,  and   truly;  since  t'      living 

words 
Of   so    great    men    as    Lancelot    and 

our  King 
Pass  not  from  door  to  door  and  out 

again, 
But  sit  within  the  house.     O,  when 

we  reach'd 
The    city,    our    horses   stumbling    as 

they  trode 
On  heaps  of  ruin,  hornless  unicorns, 
Crack'd      basilisks,      and      splinter'd 

cockatrices, 
And    shatter'd    talbots,    which    had 

left  the  stones 
Raw,  that  they  fell  from,  brought  us 

to  the  hall. 

"  And    there    sat    Arthur    on    the 

dais-throne. 
And   those   that  had   gone  out   upon 

the  Quest, 
Wasted  and  worn,  and  but  a  tithe  of 

them. 
And  those  that  had  not,  stood  before 

the  King, 
Who,    when    he   saw    me,    rose,    and 

bade  me  hail. 
Saying,   '  A  welfare  in  thine  eye  re- 
proves 
Our   fear  of  some  disastrous  chance 

for  thee 
On  hill,  or  plain,  at  sea,  or  flooding 

ford. 
So  fie    e  a  gale  made  havoc  here  of 

late 
Among    the    strange    devices   of    our 

kings ; 
Yea,  shook  this  newer,  stronger  hall 

of  ours. 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 


And  from  the  statue  Merlin  molded 
for  us 

Half-wrench'd  a  golden  wing;  but 
now  —  the   Quest, 

This  vision  —  hast  thou  seen  the 
Holy  Cup, 

That  Joseph  brought  of  old  to  Glas- 
tonbury? ' 

"  So  when  I  told  him  all  thyself 
hast  heard, 

Ambrosius,  and  my  fresh  but  fixt 
resolve 

To  pass  away  into   the  quiet  life, 

He  answer'd  not,  but,  sharply  turn- 
ing, ask'd 

Of  Gawain,  '  Gawain,  was  this 
Quest  for  thee  ?  ' 

"'Nay,   lord,"  said   Gawain,    'not 
for  such  as  I. 
Therefore      I      communed      with      a 

saintly  man, 
^Vho   made  me  sure   the  Quest  wa3 

not  for  me ; 
For    I    was    much    awearied    of    the 

Quest  : 
But  found  a  silk  pavilion  in  a  field. 
And  merry  maidens  in   it;  and   then 

this  gale 
Tore  my  pavilion   from   the  tenting- 

pin, 
And    blew    my    merry    maidens    all 

about 
With    all    discomfort;    yea,    and    but 

for  this, 
My    twelvemonth    and    a    day    were 
pleasant  to  me.' 

"  He  ceased ;  and  Arthur  turn'd 
to  whom  at  first 

He  saw  not,  for  Sir  Bors,  en  enter- 
ing, push'd 

Athwart  the  throng  to  Lancelot, 
caught  his  hand. 

Held  it,  and  there,  half-hidden  by 
him,  stood. 


22i 

I'ntil    the    King   espied    him,    saying 

tr)  him, 
'  Hail,  Bors!  if  ever  loyal  man  and 

true 
Could^   see    it,    thou    hast    seen    the 

(irail ;  '    and    Bors, 
'AsIc   me   not,   for   I   may   not  speak 

of  it: 
I  saw  it;'  and  the  tears  were  in  his 

c)es. 

"Then  there  remain 'd  but  Lance- 
lot, for  the  rest 

Spake  but  of  sundry  perils  in  the 
storm ; 

Perhaps,  like  him  of  Cana  in  Holy 
Writ, 

Our  Arthur  kept  his  best  until   the 

last  ; 
'Thou,  too,  my  Lancelot,'  ask'd  the 

King,  '  my  friend, 
Our     mightiest,     hath     this     Quest 

avail'd   for  thee?  ' 

Our     mightiest  I '     a  n  s  w  e  r'  d 
Lancelot,  with  a  groan ; 
'O    King!' — and    when    he   paused, 

methought   I   spied 

A  dying  fire  of  madness  in  his  eyes 

'O    King,    my    friend,    if    friend    of 

thine  I  be. 
Happier  are  those  that  welter  in  their 

sin. 
Swine   in    the  mud,    that  cannot   see 

for  slime, 
Slime  of  the  ditch:  but  in  me  lived 

a  sin 
So  strange,  of  such  a  kind,  that  all 

of  pure. 
Noble,    and    knightly    in    me    twined 

and  clung 
Round  that  one  sin,  until  the  whole- 
some flover 
And    poisonous   grew    together,    each 

as  each. 
Not    to    be    pluck'd    asunder;    and 

when  thy  knights 


III!  I 


3i^ 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Sware,    I    svvarc  with   them   only   in 

the  hope 
That  could  1  touch  or  see  the  Holy 

Grail 
They     might     be     pluck'd     asunder. 

Then    I    spake 
To   one   most    holy   saint,    who   wept 

and  said, 
That    save    they    could    be    pluck'd 

asunder,   all 
My     quest     were     but     in     v.u'n ;     to 

whom  1   vou 'il 
That    I    would    work    according;    as 

he  will'd. 
And     forth     I     went,     and     while     I 

yearn'd  and  strove 
To    tear    the    twain    asunder    in    my 

heart, 
My    madness   came    upon    nie    as    of 

old, 
And   whipt  me  into  waste  fields   far 

aw  ay ; 
There   was   I   beaten   down   by   little 

men. 
Mean  knights,  to  whom  the  moving 

of  my  sword 
And   shadow   of  my  spear   had   been 

enow 
To   scare   them   from   me  once;   and 

then  I  came 
All     in     my     folly     to     the     naked 

shore. 
Wide  flats,  where  nothing  but  coarse 

grasses  grev\- ; 
But  such  a  blast,  my  King,  began  to 

blovv, 
So  loud  a  blast  along  the  shore  and 

sea, 
Yc  could  not  hear  the  waters  for  the 

blast. 
The'  heapt  in  mounds  and  ridges  all 

the  sea 
Drove   like   a   cataract,    and    all    the 

sand 
Swept  like  a  river,  and  the  clouded 

heavens 
Were   shaken   with   the   motion    and 

the  sound. 


And     blackening     in     the     sea-foam 

swa\'d   a   boat, 
Half-swallow'd   in    it,   anchor'd   with 

a  chain ; 
And  in  my  madness  to  mvself  I  said, 
"  I   will  embark  and   I   will  hv  my- 
self. 
And  in  the  great  sea  wash  away  my 

sin." 
I   burst  the  chain,   I   sprang  into  the 

boat. 
Seven  days  I  drove  along  thi-  ureary 

deep. 
And  with  me  drove  the  moon  and  all 

the  stars; 
And  the  wind  fell,  „iid  on  the  ■-evenrh 

night 
I   heard   the  shingle   grir.  ling  in   the 

'urge. 
And    felt   the   boat   .  hock   earth,   and 

Iwjking  up. 
li -hold,  the  enchanted  towers  of    Jar- 

bonek, 
A  castle  like  a  rock  upon  a  rock. 
With  chasm-like  portals  open  to  tYc 

sea, 
And    steps    that    met    the    breaker! 

there  was  none 
Stood    near    it   but    a    lion    on    each 

side 
That  kept  the  entry,  an  !   the  moon 

was  full. 
Then  from  the  boat  I  leapt,  and  up 

the  stairs. 
There  drew  my  sword.     With  sud- 
den-flaring manes 
'I  hose  two  great  beasts  rose  upright 

like  a  man, 
Each   gript  a  shoulder,  and    I   stood 

between ; 
And,    when    I    would    have    smitten 

them,  heard  a  voice, 
"Doubt    not,    go    forward;    if    thou 

doubt,  the  beasts 
Will     tear    thee    piecemeal."     Then 

with  violence 
'I'he  sword  w  as  dash'd  from  out  my 
hand,  and   fell. 


THK  HOLY  (;RAIL 

And    up    into    fhr    sourJIn^    hall     I      That  which    I  saw;   but  wh,.:    I 


m 


fi 


past 


luf  I  uhing  in   thr   souii.finu  hall   I 
savv, 
No  hfiich  nor  tahlr,   p.iintiii^'  on   the 


wa.s   veii'ii 


wal 

Or       hiflJ     of     knij;ia       only      the 

rounded  moon 
Thro'    the    tall    oriel    „n    the    roll    ij; 

sea. 
But    always    in    the    quiet    hojsc     I 

h^ard 
Clear   as  a   lark,   high   o'ei    me   as  a 

lark, 
A  sweet  voice  singing  in  r'  c  topmost 

tower 
To    the   eastward:    up    I    cllmb'd    a 

thousand   steps 
With  pain:  as  in  a  dream  I  seemM  to 

climb 
For   ever:    at   the    last    I    reach 'd    a 

door, 
A  light   was   in   the  crannies    at  1   I 

heard, 
Glory    .rid     oy  and   honor   to  our 

Lor.. 
And    to    the    Hoi      Vessel    of    the 

Grail." 
Then   in   my  madness   1   essay'd    the 

door; 
It  gave;  and  thro'  a  stormy  glare,  i 

heat 
As  from  a  seventimes-heated  furnace, 

Blasted  and  burnt,  and  blinded  as  I 

was, 
With     such     a     fierreness     that     I 

swoon 'd  aw,T\-  — 
O,   yet    rnethouKi.t   I    saw   the    Holy 

All    pall'd       1    crimson    samite,    and 

around 
Great     angels,     awful     shapes,     and 

wings  and  eyes. 
And  but  for  all  my  madness  and  my 

sin. 
And  then  my  swooning,  I  had  sworn 

I  saw 


And  over'd;  and  this  Quest  «  as  not 
for  me.' 

"  So    speaking,    and    here    ceasing, 

Lancelot   left 
I"he  hall  long  silent,  till  Sir  Gauain 

—  nay, 
Brother,   1  need  not  t- II  thee   foolish 

wordv,-  - 
A  retkles!,  and   irreverent  km^^ht  was 

he, 
Now   bolden'd   \<\-    the   silence  of  his 

King,— 
Well.  I  will  tell  thee:     O  King,  my 

liege,'  he  said, 
'  Hath  Gawain  faii'd  in  any  quest  of 

thine? 
When     have     I     ^tinted     stroke     In 

foughtcn    field  ? 
But  as  for  thine,  my  good  friend  Per- 

civalc. 
Thy  holy  nun  and  thoi.  have  driven 

men  mad, 
■V  ea,  made  our  mightiest  madder  than 

our  least. 
But  by  mine  eyes  and  by  rr'ne  ear     I 
swear, 

I   will   b^  deafer  than   the  blue-eved 
cat. 

And  thrice  as  blind   as  anv  noonday 

owl. 
To  holy  virgins  in  their  ecstasies, 
Henceforward.' 

"'Deafer,'     sal      the     blameless 

,  .^' 

Gawain,     and     blinder     unto     holy 

things 
Hope    not    to    make    thyself   by    idle 

vows, 
Being  too  blind  to  have  desire  to  see. 
But  if  indeed  there  came  a  sign  froni 

heaven, 
Blessed  arf  Bors,  Lancelot  an  ■    Per- 

civale. 


338 


IDYLLS  OF   THK  KING 


For    thrsr    have    srrn    aitonliii^;    to 

thrir  sight. 
For  evrry  (irry  prophet  in  old  tiiufs, 
And   all    the   paired    iiiaiirie>\   ot    the 

bar.i, 
When   (lod    iiiaiie   music   thro'   them, 

could  but  speak 
His  music  by  thi-  tramework  and  the 

chord ; 
And    as   ye    saw    it    ye    have    spoken 

truth. 

"'Nay  —  but  thou   errest,    Lance- 
lot :  never  >et 
Could  all  of  true  and  noble  in  knight 

and  man 
Twine    round    one    sin,    whatever    it 

might  be, 
With    such    a    closeness,    but    apart 

there  grew, 
Save    that    he    were    the    swine    tliou 

spakcsr  of, 
Some   root    of    knighthood    and    pure 

nobleness; 
Whereto   sec   thou,   that    it  may   bear 

its  flower. 

"  '  And  spake   I   not   too  truly,   O 

my  knights? 
Was   I    too   dark   a  prophet   when    I 

said 
To   those  who   went   upon    the   Holy 

Quest, 
That    most    of    them    would    follow 

wandering  fires, 
Lost  in   the  quagmire?  —  lost  to  me 

and  gone, 
And    left    me    gazing    at    a    barren 

board, 
And  a  lean  Order  —  scarce  rcturn'd 

a  tithe  — 
And  out  of  'hose  to  whom  the  vision 

came 
My   greatest   hardly   will    believe   he 

saw ; 
Another  hath  beheld  it  afar  ofiF, 


And   leaving  liunian  wrongs  to  tight 

themscivrs, 
Cares  but  to  pavs  into  the  silent   life. 
And  one  hath  had  the  vision  face  to 

face. 
And   now   his  chair   desires  him    here 

in  vain. 
However  they  may  crown  him  other- 

vv  her?. 

And  some  among  you  held, 
that  if  the  King 

Had  seen  the  sight  he  would  have 
sworn  the  vow : 

Not  easily,  seeing  that  the  King 
must  guard 

That  which  he  rules,  and  is  but  as 
the  hind 

To  whom  a  space  of  land  is  given  to 
plow. 

WHio  may  not  wander  from  the  allot- 
ted field 

Before  his  work  be  done;  but,  be- 
ing done, 

Let  visions  of  the  night  or  of  the  day 

Come,  as  they  will ;  and  many  a 
tiiTie  they  come. 

Until  this  earth  he  walks  on  seems 
not   earth. 

This  light  that  strikes  his  eyeball  is 
not  light. 

This  air  that  smites  his  forehead  is 
not  air 

Rut  vision  —  yea,  his  very  hand  and 
foot  — 

In  moments  when  he  feels  he  can- 
not die, 

And  knows  himself  no  vision  to  him- 
self, 

Nor  the  high  God  a  vision,  nor  that 
One 

Who  rose  again :  ye  have  seen  what 
ye  have  seen.' 

"So  spake  the  King:  I  knew  not 
all  he  meant." 


I'KLLKAS  AND  KTTARRK 


339 


PEI.LF.AS  AND  F-.TTARRK 

KiNc  Arthur  made  now  knijjhts  to 

fill   tlic  gap 
l.rft  by   thf   Holy  (^urst ;  anil  a.'s  he 

sat 
In    hall    at    olJ    Carriron,    thr    high 

doors 
VV'rrr     softly     siindrr'd,     and     thro' 

thrse  a  youth, 
Pr!i<-as    and    tht  swrci  smrll   of   the 

fields 
Past,    and    the   sunshine    came   along 

with   him. 

"  Make   me   thy  Icnfjjht,   because   I 

know,  Sir  Kin^, 
All   that   helonjjs  to  kniKJithood,   and 

I   love." 
Such    was   his  cry;   for  havinu  heard 

the  King 
Kad    let    proclaim    a    tournament  — 

the  prize 
A     golden     circlet     and     a    knightly 

sword, 
Full    fain    had    Pelleas    for    his    lady 

won 
The    golden   circlet,    for   himself    the 

sword : 
And  there  were  those  who  knew  him 

near  the  King, 
And   promised    for  him:  and   Arthur 

made  him   knight. 

And  this  new  knight,  Sir  Pelleas 
of  the  isles  — 

But  lately  come   to  his   inheritance. 

And  lord  of  many  a  barren  isle  was 
he  — 

Riding  at  noon,  a  day  or  twain  be- 
fore. 

Across  the  forest  call'd  of  Dean,  to 
find 

Caerleon  and  the  King,  had  felt  the 
sun 

Beat  like  a  strong  knight  on  his 
helm,  and  reel'd 


Almost    to    falling    from    his    horse; 

but   saw 
Near   him   a   mound   of  even-sloping 

side, 
Whereon    a   hundreil    stately    beeches 

grew. 
And     here    and     there    great    hollies 

under  them  ; 
Hut    for  a   mile  all   round   was  open 

space, 
.And     frrn    and    heath:    and    slowly 

Pellea.s  drew 
lo   that   dim    day,    'hen    binding    his 

good  horse 
To   a    tree,   cast   himself   down;   and 

as  he  lay 
At    random   looking  over   tlie   brown 

earth 
Thro'    that    green-glooming    twilight 

of  the  grove. 
It   seem'd    to    Pelleas    that    the    fern 

without 
Burnt  as  a  living  fire  of  emeralds, 
So   that   his  eyes   were  dazzled   look- 
ing at  it. 
Then  o'er  it  crost  the  dimness  of  a 

cloud 
Floating,  and  once  the  shadow  of  a 

bird 
Flying,    and   then    a    fawn;   and    his 

eyes  closed. 
And  since  he  loved  all  maidens,  but 

no  maid 
In  special,   half-awake  he  whisper'd, 

"Where? 
O  where?     I  love  thee,  tho'  I  know 

thee  not. 
For  fair  thou  art  and  pure  as  Guin- 
evere, 
And  I  will  make  thee  vt  ith  my  spear 

and  sword 
As     famous  —  O     my     Queen,     my 

Guinevere, 
For  I  will  be  thine  Arthur  when  wt 
meet." 

Suddenly   waken'd     vith    a    sound 
of  talk 


.■rJ 


340 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And    laughter   at    thL-   limit   of    the 

wood, 
And  glancing  thro'  the  hoary  boles, 

he  saw, 
Strange    as    to    some    old     prophet 

might   have  seem'd 
A  vision  hovering  on  a  s.a  of  fire, 
Damsels    in    divers    colors    like    the 

cloud 
Of   sunset   and    sunrise,    and    all   of 

them 
On  horses,  and  the  horses  r'chly  trapt 
Breast-high    in    that    bright    line    of 

br.icken  stood  : 
And     all    the     canisels     talk'd    con- 
fusedly, 
And  one  was  pointing  this  way,  ari ' 

one  tliat, 
Because  the  way  was  lost. 

And  Pelleas  rose, 
And   loosed   his  horse,    and   led  him 

to  the  light. 
There    she    that    seem'd     the    chief 

amon;^  them  said, 
"  In    happ\    time    behold    our    pilot- 

s*ar! 
Youth,    we    are    damsels-errant,    and 

we  ride, 
Arm'd  as  ye  see,   to  tilt  against  the 

knights 
There  at  Caerleon,  but  have  lost  our 

way : 
To  right?  to  left?  straight  forward? 

back  again  ? 
Which  ?  tell  us  quickly  ?  " 

Pelleas  gazing  thought, 

"  Is  Guinevere  herself  so  beauti- 
ful?" 

For  large  her  violet  eyes  look'd,  and 
her  bloom 

A  rosy  dawn  kindled  in  stainless 
heavens, 

And  round  her  limbs,  mature  in 
womanhood  ; 

And  slender  was  her  hand  and  small 
her  shape; 


And   but   for  those   large  eyes,   the 

haunts  of  scorn, 
She  might  have  seem'd  a  toy  to  trifle 

with, 
And   pass   and   care   no   more.     But 

while  he  gazed 
The  Hjauty  of  her  flesh  abash'd  the 

boy. 
As   tho'   it  were  the  beauty  of  her 

soul: 
For  as  the  base  man,  judging  of  the 

good. 
Puts    his    own    baseness    in    him    by 

default 
Of  will   and   nature,  so  did   Pelleas 

lend 
All  the  young  beauty  of  his  own  soul 

to   hers. 
Believing   her;  and  when  she  spake 

to  himj 
Stammer'd,  and  could  not  make  her 

a  reply. 
For  out  of  the  waste  islands  had  he 

come. 
Where  saving  his  own  sisters  he  had 

known 
Scarce   ary    but    the    women    of    his 

isles, 
Rough     wives,     that     laugh'd     and 

scream'd  against  the  gulls. 
Makers  of  nets,  and  living  from  the 

sea. 


Then  with  a  slow  smile  turn'd  the 

lady  round 
And  look'd  upon  her  people;  and  as 

w'r    , 
A  stone  is  flung  into  some  sleeping 

tarn. 
The    circle    widens    till    it    lip    the 

marge, 
Spread   the  slow  smile  thro'  all  her 

company. 
Three     knights     were     thereamong; 

and  they  too  smiled, 
Scorning    him;    for    the    lady    was 

Ettarre, 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE 


And   she  was  ?.   great   lady   in   her 
land. 

Again  she  said,   "O  wild  and  of 

the  woods, 
Knowest  thou  not  the  tashion  cf  our 

speech  ? 
Or  have  the  Heavens  but  given  thee 

a  fair  face, 
Lacking  a  tongue  ?  " 

,  "  O  damsel, "  answer'd  he, 

I  woke  from  dreams ;  and  coming 

out  of  gloom 
Was    dazzled    by    the   sudden    light, 

and  crave 
Pardon :  but  w  ill  ye  to  Caerleon  ?     I 
Go  likewise:  shall  I  lead  you  to  the 

King?  " 

"  Lead  then,"  she  said ;  and  thro' 

the  woods  they  went. 
And  \yhile  they  rode,  the  meaning  in 

his  eyes. 
His  tenderness  of  manner,  and  chaste 

awe. 

His   broken   utterances   and    bashful- 

ness. 
Were  all  a  burthen   to  her,   and  in 

her  heart 
She  mutter'd,  "  I  have  lighted  on  a 

fool. 
Raw,  yet  so  stale !  "     But  since  her 

mind  was  bent 
On    hearing,    after    vrumpet    blov»n, 

her  nam; 
And    title,    "Queen    of   Beauty,"   in 

the  lists 
Cried  —  and      beholding      him      so 

strong,  she  thought 
That  peradventure  he  will  fight  for 
me. 

And  win  the  circlet:  therefore  flatter'd 

him. 
Being  so  gracious,  that  he  well-nigh 

deem'd 
His  « ish  by  hers  was  echo'd ;  and  her 

knights 


And    all    her    damsels    too    were 

gracious   to   him. 
For  she  was  a  great  lady. 

And  when  they  reach'd 

Caerleon,  ere  they  past   to  lodging, 

she,  ^' 

Taking    his    hand,    "O    the    strong 

^_       hand,"  she  said. 

See!   look  at  mine!  but  wilt   thou 

fight  for  me. 

And    win   me   this   fine   circlet.    Pel- 
leas, 
That  I  may  love  thee  ?  " 

Then  his  helpless  heart 
Leapt,  and  he  cried,  "Aye!  wilt  fhou 

if  I  win  ?  " 
"Aye,  that  will  I,"  she  answer'd,  and 

she  laugh'd. 
And  straitly  nipt  the  hand,  and  flung 

;t  from  her; 
Then   glanced   askew   at   those   three 

knights  of  hers, 
Till  all  her  ladies  laugh'd  along  with 

her. 


"O   happy   world,"    thought    Pel- 
leas,  "  all,  meseems. 
Are  happy;   I    the   happiest  cf   them 

all." 
Nor  slept  that  night  for  pleasure  in 

his  blood. 
And     green     wood-ways,     and     eyes 

among  the  leaves ; 
I'hen  being  on  the  morrow  knighted. 

sware 
To  love  one  only.     And  as  he  came 

away. 
The  men   who  met  him  rounded  on 

their  heels 
And  wonder'd  after  him,  because  his 

fact 
Shone    like    the    countenance    of    a 

priest  of  old 
Against  the  flame  about  a  sacrifice 


342 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Kindled  by  fire  from  lieaven :  so  glad 
was  he. 

Then  Arthur  made  vast  banquets, 

and  strange   knii;hts 
From   the  four  winds  came   in:  and 

each  one  sat, 
Tho'    served    with    choice    from    air, 

land,   stream,  and  sea, 
Oft   in  mid-banquet   measuring   with 

his  eyes 
His  neiglibor's  make  and  might:  and 

Pelleas  look'd 
Noble     among     the     noble,     for     he 

dream'd 
His   lady    loved    him,    and    he    knew 

himself 
Loved  of  the  King:  and  him  his  new- 
made   knight 
Worshipt,     whose     lightest     whisper 

movi'd  him  more 
Than  all  the  ranged   reasons  of   the 

world. 

Then  blush'd  and  brake  the  morn- 
ing of  the  jousts. 

And  this  was  call'd  "  The  Tourna- 
ment of  Youth :  " 

For  Arthur,  loving  his  young  knight, 
withheld 

His  older  and  his  mightier  from  the 
lists. 

That  ''elie;is  might  obtain  his  lady's 
love, 

According  to  her  promise,  and  re- 
main 

Lord  of  the  tourney.  And  Arthur 
had  the  jousts 

Down  in  the  flat  field  bv  the  shore 
of  Usk 

Holden:  the  gilded  parapets  were 
crown'd 

With  faces,  and  the  great  tower  fiU'd 
with   eyes 

Up  to  the  summit,  and  the  trumpets 
blew. 

There  all  day  long  Sir  Pelleas  kept 
the   field 


^Vith  honor:  so  by  that  strong  hand 

of  his 
The  sword  and   golden  circlet  were 

achieved. 

Then    rang    the    shout    his    lady 

loved :  the  neat 
Of  pride   and    glory   fired   her   face; 

her  eye 
Sparkled  ;  she  caught  the  circlet  from 

his    lance, 
And  there  before  the  people  crown'd 

herself: 
So  for  the  last  time  she  was  gracious 

to  him. 

Then   at  Caerleon    for    a   space  — 

her   look 
Bright  *or  all  others,  cloudier  on  her 

knight  — 
Linger'd  Ettarrc:  and  seeing  Pelleas 

droop. 
Said  Guinevere,  "  Wr  marvel  at  thee 

much, 

0  damsel,  wearing  this  unsunny  face 
l"o    him     who     won     thee     glorj- !  " 

And  she  said, 
"  Had  ye  not  held  your  Lancelot  in 

your  bower. 
My     Queen,     he     had     not     won." 

Whereat   the   Queen, 
As   one   whose   foot   is   bitten   \>y    an 

ant, 
Glanced  down  upon  her,  turn'd  and 

went  her  way. 

But  after,  wher   her  damsels,  and 

herself, 
And  thooe  three  knights  all  set  their 

faces   '•.onie, 
Sir   Pelleas   follow'd.     She   that  saw 

him  cried, 
"Damsels  —  and    yi      I    should    be 

shamed   to   say   it  — 

1  cannot  bide  Sir  Baby.     Keep  him 

back 
Among     yourselves.     Would     rather 
that  we  had 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE 


Some  rough  old  knight  who  I^new  the 

worldly  way, 
Albeit  gr'-  vlicr  than  a  bear,  to  ride 
Am    jest  with:  take  him  to  you,  keep 

him  off, 

And  pamper  him  with  papmeat,  if  ye 
will, 

Old   milky    fables   of   the   wolf   and 

sheep. 
Such  as  the  wholesome  mothers  tell 

their  boys. 
Nay,  should  ye  try  him  with  a  merry 

one 

To  find  his  mettle;  good :  and  if  he  fly 

us. 
Small    matter!    let    him."     This    her 

damsels  heard. 
And  mindful  of  her  small  and  cruel 

hand. 
They,    closing    round    him    thro'    the 

journey  home. 
Acted  her  best,  and  always  from  her 

side 

Restrain'd    him   with    all    manner   of 

device, 
So  that  he  could  not  come  to  speech 

with  her. 
And  when  she  gain'd  her  castle,   up- 

sprang  the  bridge, 
Down    rang  the  grate  of   hun   thro' 

the   groove. 
And  he  was  left  alone  in  open  field. 

"These    be    the    ways    of    ladies," 
relleas    thought, 

"To  those  who  love  them,  trials  of 
our  faith. 

Yea,   let  her  prove  me  to  the  utter- 
most, 

For  loyal  to  the  uttermost  am  I." 

So    made    his    moan;    and,    darkness 
falling,   sought 

A   priory   not   far   off,    there  lodged, 
but  rose 

With  morning  evn-/  day,  and,  moist 
or  dry, 

Full-arm'd  upon  his  charger  all   day 
long 


343 

Sat  by  the  walls,  and  no  one  open'd 
to  him. 

And    this    persistence    turn'd    her 

scorn  to  wrath. 
Then  calling  her  three  knights,  she 

charged  them,  "Out! 
And    drive    him    from    the    walls." 

And  out  they  came. 
But  Felleas  overthrew  them  as  they 

dash'd 
Against  him   one  by  one;   and   these 

return'd, 
But  still   he  kept  his  watch   beneath 

the  wall. 

1  hereon  her  wrath  became  a  hate; 

and  once, 
A    week    beyond,    while    walking   on 

the  walls 
With  her  three  knights,  she  pointed 

downward,    "  Look, 
He  haunts  me— I  cannot  breathe  — 

besieges  me; 
Down!  strike  him!  put  my  hate  into 

your  strokes. 
And     drive    him     from    mv    walls." 

And   dov\n  tlu-y  went, 
And   Pelleas  overthrew  them  one  by 
one ; 

And  from  the  to\v ,  r  above  him  cried 

Lttarre, 
"  Bind  i;im  and  bring  him   in." 


_  He  heard  her  voice; 

1  hen  let  the  strong  hand,  which  had 

overthrown 
Her    minion-knights,     bv    those     he 

overthrew 
Be    bounden    straight,    and    so    they 

brought  him  in. 

Then      when      he      came      before 

Lttarre,  the  sight 
Of  h(.r  rich  beauty  made  him  at  one 

glance 
More  bondsman  in  his  heart  than  in 

his  bonds. 


344 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Yet     with     good     cheer     he    spake, 

"  Behold  me,  Lady, 
A    prisoner,    and    the    wissal    of    thy 

will; 
And  if  thou  keep  me  in  thy  donjon 

here. 
Content  ani  I  so  that  I  see  thy  face 
But  once  a   day:   for  I    have  sworn 

my  vows, 
And  thou  hast  given  thy  promise,  and 

I   know 
That  all  these  pains  are  trials  of  my 

faith, 
And  that  thyself,  when  tiiou  hast  seen 

nu'  strain'd 
And    sifted    to    the    utmost,    wilt    at 

length 
Yield  me  thy  love  and  know  me  for 

thy  knight." 

Then  she  began  to  rail  so  bitterly, 
With     all     her     damsels,      he     was 

stricken  mute; 
But  when  she  mock'd   his  vows  and 

the   great    King, 
Liglited    on    words:     "For    pity    of 

thine   own    self, 
Peace,   Lady,   peace:   is  he  not  thine 

and  mine?  " 
"  Thou    fool,"    she    said,    "  I    never 

heard  his  voice 
But  long'd  to  break  away.     Unbind 

him  now, 
And  thrust  him  out  of  doors;  for  save 

he  be 
Fool  to  the  midmost  marrow  of  his 

b^ncs, 
He     will     return     no     more."     And 

those,   her   three, 
Laugh'd,    and    unbound,    and    thrust 

him    from   the   gate. 

And    after    this,    a    week    beyond, 

again 
She  call'd   them,  saying,   "  There  he 

V.  atchrs  yet, 
There  like  a  dog  before  his  master's 

door! 


Kick'd,  he  returns:  do  ye  not  hate 

him,  ye? 
Ye  know  yourselves:  how  can  ye  bide 

at  peace, 
Affronted      with     his     rui-.ome     in- 
nocence ? 
Are  ye  but  creatures  of  the  board  and 

bed. 
No  men  to  strike?     Fall  on  hiii  all 

at  once, 
And  if  ye  slay  him  I  reck    lot:  it  ye 

fail, 
Give  ye   the  slave    nine  order  to  be 

bound, 
Bind    him    as    hereutore,    and    oring 

him  in : 
It  may  be  ye  shall  slay  him  in   his 

bonds." 


She  spake;   and   at   her  will    they 

couch'd  their  spears, 
Three  against  one:  and  Gauain  pass- 
ing by. 
Hound  upon   'solitary  adventure,  saw 
Low    down    beneath    the   shadow    of 

those   towers 
A  villainv ,    three   to  one:   and    thro' 

his    heart 
The  fire  of  honor  and  all  noble  deeds 
Flash'd,  and  he  call'd,  "  I  strike  upon 

thy  side  — 
The  caitiffs!  "     "  Nay."  said  Pelleas, 

"  but    forbear ; 
He  needs  no  aid  who  doth  his  lady's 

will." 


So  Gawain,  looking  at  the  villainy 
done, 

Forbore,  but  in  his  heat  and  eager- 
ness 

Trembled  and  quiver'd,  as  the  dog, 
w  ithheld 

A  moment  from  the  ve-rnin  that  he 
sees 

Before  him,  shiver"^,  ere  he  springs 
and  kills. 


And  Pelleai  overthrew  them,  one  to 
three ; 

And    the>    rose   up,    ^d   bound,   and 

I'Tiuigiit  him  in. 
Then  first  her  anger,  leaving  Pdleas, 

b    -n  d 

Full  on  her  knights  in  many  an  evil 

name 
Of    craven,     weakling,     and     thrice- 
beaten   hound : 
"  Vf.  take  him,  ye  tiiat  scarce  are  ,it 

to  touch, 
i-ar    Jess    to    bind,   your    victor,    and 

thrust   him   out, 
And   let  who  will    please  him   from 

his  bonds. 
And   if  he  comes  again  "-_  there  *h- 

brake   short; 
And    I'flk-us    answcr'd,    "  Lady,    for 
mdeed 

I  loved  you  .-nd  I  decm'd  you  beauti- 
ful, 

I    cannot   brook    to   see   your    beauty 

marr  d 
Thro'  evil  spite:  and   if  ye  We  me 

not, 

I  cannot  bear  to  dream  vou  so   for- 
sworn: 

I   had   licftr  iv  were   worthy  ot   my 
love, 

Than  to  be  loved  again  of  you  —  fare- 
well ; 

And  tho'  ye  kill  my  hope,  i.ot  yet  my 

love. 
Vex  not  yoursr'f:  ye  will  not  see  mc 

more." 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE 


345 

A    something  -  was    it    nobler    thai. 

myself?  — 

Seem'.l   my  reproach'     He  is  not  of 

my  kind. 
He  could  not  love  me.  did  he  know 

me  well. 

Nay,     let     him     go  —  and     quickly." 

And  her  knights 
Laugh'd  nor    but  thrust  him  bounden 

out  of  door. 

Forth  sprang  Gawain,  and  loosed 
nim  from  his  bonds, 
And   flung  them  o'er  the  walL     and 

afterward, 
Shaking  his  hands,  as  ;rom  a  lazar's 

Faith   of  my  body,"   he  said,   "  ,.nd 

art  thou  not  — 
Vea    thou    art    he,    whom    late    our 

-Arthur  made 
Knight  of  his  table;  yea  and  he  that 

won 

The  circlet?  wherefore  hast  thou  so 
ue  famed 

Thy  brotherhood   in  me  and  all   the 
rest, 

^*  '"^-n^f,  ''^'^''^*  °"  f^«  ^ork  their 
y\  ill  I 


While    thus    he    spake,    she    gazed 

upon   the  man 
Of   princely   bearing,    tho'   in    bonds, 

and  thought, 
"Why  have  I  push'd  him  from  me? 

this  man   loves, 

^*  ^°\\r}^T  ^^'  >■"  fi™  I  lovtd  not. 
Why? 

I  decm'd  him  fool?  yea,  so?  or  that 
in  him 


And    Pellens  answer'.l,   "  O,   their 
Wills  are  hers 
For  whom    I    won    the   circlet;   and 

n-  le,    hers, 
Thus  to  be  bounden,   so   to  see  her 
face, 

Marr'd    tho'    it    be    with    spite    and 

mockery  now, 
Other  than  when  I  found  her  in  the 

woods ; 
And  tho'  she  hath  me  bounden  but  in 

spite, 
^md    all    to    flout    me,    when    thev 
bring  me  in, 

Let  me  be  bounden,   I  shall  see  her 
face ; 

Else  must  I  die  thro'  mine  unhappi- 
ncss. 


346 


IDYLLS  OF  'IHL   Kh\G 


And  Gawain  ansv.er'd  kindly  tho' 

in   scorn, 
"  Why,    let   n,/    l;idy   bind   nic   if   she 

will. 
And  let  my  huly  heat  me  if  she  will: 
Bvit  an  she  send  her  delegate  to  thrall 
These     fiKhtin^;     hantls     (jf     mine  — 

Christ  kill  me  thin 
But  I  will  slice  hini  handlcss  by  the 

wrist. 
And  let  my  lady  sear  the  stump  for 

him, 
Howl  as  he  may.     But  iiold  me  for 

your  friend: 
Come,     ye    know     nothing:     here     I 

pledge  my  troth, 
^'ea,    by    the    honor    of    the    Table 

Round, 
I   will   be   ieal   to  thee  and   work  thy 

work, 
And  tame  thy  jailing  princess  to  thine 

hand. 
Lend  me  thine  horse  and  arms,  and  I 

will  say 
That  I  have  slain  thee.     She  will  let 

me  in 
To  hear  the  manner  of  th\    tight  and 

fall ; 
Then,     ulien      I     come     within     licr 

counsel>,    then 
From  prime  to  vespers  will    I   chant 

thy   praise 
As   prowest   knight   and    truest   lover, 

more 
Than  any  ha'  e  sung  thee   living,   till 

she  long 
To    have    thee    back    in     lusty     life 

again. 
Not  to  be  bound,  save  by  white  bonds 

and   \'a'-m, 
Dearer     than      freedom.     Wherefore 

nov\-  thy  ho.    . 
And     armor:     let    me    go;    be    com- 
forted : 
Ciive  me  three  days  to  melt  l;er  fancy, 

and   hope 
TliP  third  night  hence  u  ill  bring  thee 

news    of    gold." 


Then  Pclleas  lent  his  horse  and  all 

his  arms, 
Saving   the   goodly  sword,   his  prize, 

and   took 
Gawain's,  and  said,  "  Betray  me  not, 

but   help  — 
Art  thou  not  he  whom  men  call  light- 

of-love: 

"  Aye,"  said  Gawain,  "  for  women 
be  so  light." 

Then  bounded  forward  to  the  castle 
walls, 

A..d  raised  a  bugle  hanging  from  his 
neck. 

And  winded  it,  and  that  so  music- 
ally 

That  all  the  old  echoes  hidden  in  the 
wall 

Rang  out  like  hollow  woods  at  hunt- 
ing-tide. 

Up  ran  a  score  of  damsels  to  the 

tower; 
"  Avauni,"    they    cried,    "  our    lady 

loves  thee  not." 
Hut  Gawain  lifting  up  his  vizor  said, 
"  Gaw  ain  am  I,  Gaw  ain  of  /  rthur's 

court, 
And   I   have  slain  this   Pe'leas  whom 

ye  hate: 
Ikhold   his  horse  and   armor.     Open 

gates, 
And    1    will    make    you    nierr\-." 

And  down  they  ran, 
Her    damsels,    crying    to    thi-lr    ladv, 

"Lo! 
Pelleas    is    dead  —  he    told    us  —  he 

that   hath 
His  horse  and  armor:  will  ve  let  him 

in? 
He  slew   him!     Gawain,  Gawain  of 

the  court, 
Sir  Gawain  —  there   he   waits  below 

the  wall, 
Blowing  his  bugle  as  who  should  say 

him   nay." 


PELLKAS  AND  ETTARRE 


And 

th 


so,    leave   given,    straight    on  "  One 


Rode    ( 


ro    open  door 


cour 


'  Dtad. 


jawain,     whom    >he    greeted      () 

tcousl). 


by. 


rose,  a 


347 

rose  to  gather  by  and 


ne    rose,   a   rose,   t 


IS  it  so?"  she  a^k'd. 


'And 


aye,"  said  he, 


N( 


wear. 


o  gather  and    t( 


•  lit   in 


name. 


dying 


cried   upon  your      One  rose 


rose   but  one  — what  otl 
had   I? 


ler   rose 


'  Pity 


on    him,"    sh 


good   knight 


e    ;iri-,uer 


a      ile  d 


not  die, — 


my  rose;  a  rose  tiiat  will 


les  wh(j  loves  It, —  if  the 
be   there." 


Worm 


But  never  let  me   bide   one   hour  at 

peace."  „ 

''"^'be'fairenl^'""''''   "  ^^   ^"^  thVdoub[,  ^^'""'   '"''   """"'"'' 

But  I^o"'our7ead  man  have  given      "  ^^'idJZe". -'"""     "'"'     '"^ 
my  troth,  c      ,      ,    ,     "f^"^- 

That   whom    ye    loathe,    him    will    I  "Yf      T      ''  '"  ""'''^  '""  ^"'• 

make  vou  love."  ,-  ;   .,  , 

i'.re  imdn.ght  to  her  walls,  and  bound 

So  those  thiee  days,  aimless  about      u      lu      u"*^ 

the   land,  ^      ^"'^ ^y  ^^^  S^^'^-     'Wide  open  were 

Lost  in  a  d-ubt,  Pelleas  wandering  An,l    n^  ^^'"V    , 

Waited,  untd  the  third  night  brought  tl^^e  "he  n.  .    '' '    '"'    '"    ''"^' 

a  moon  .     ,  V        ,  ,  ' 

With  promise  of  large  light  on  woods  ou "  luaTr  '"'  """  '''''''  '"'^  ^'' 

and  ways.  „      .  '"art 

J5catmg,    for   nothing  moved   bur   his 

not  w.  the  night  and  silent;  but  a     And  T  t^n     shadow.     Then     he 

Of    Gawain    ever   coming     and    this       \       ""« /he  court, 

lay-  ^'        *^    '""     -'^"'1   spied   not  any   light   in   hall   or 

Which  Pelleas  had  heard  sunc  i,efore  H  .        ''^i' 

the  Oueen  ^  ^  ?"'  '^^^   ''^<^  PO^^^n  portal  also  wide 

And     seen     her    sadden     listening-  ^ ''"T^ '•'*"''  "P  ^  slope  of  garden, 

vext  his  hL'urt,  o<:  i  • 

And     marr'd    his    rest  — "  A    worm  ''''"        ''"  ^"*'  ''^'^'  ^"^  brambles 

vvitiiin    the   rose."  a     . 

And  overgrowmg  them,  went  on,  ard 

■■A„^.  l,„  „,„,  „„„,  „„„  ,„,,      H       "ZSu  l„„h'J  bdcv  „,e  „„1. 

"  '~;,;rjr ""'  ""'^ '™  -•"■  ^.v.  "irr.  „„,,=  ,■,„ .  „,„ 

One  rose,  a  ros^    :hat  rlaJdenM  P-irrh      i^      ""^^-^ , 

and  ^ky,  ^'-'^  J-^" 'J  earth     Lame   li^^htemng  downwaul.   and   so 

One  rose,  my  rose,  that  sweetei.'d  all      An,nng  Jhe'roLs   .n  i  > 

mine  air —  ^'n  nj,  me  roses,  and  was  lost  again. 

I  cared  not  for  the  thorns;  the  thorns  Thenwa,    h.  :     ■ 

were  there.  f.    "  ^^    "e   wnre   of    three   pa- 

vilions  rear'd 


If 


.UH 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Above    the    buslics,    Rildcn-peakt :    in 

one, 
Red  after  revel,  droncil  her  lurdanc 

kiii^lits 
Slumbering,    and    their    three    squires 

across  their   feet : 
In  one,  their  malice  on  the  pLuid  lip 
F"ro/.'n    by    sweet    sleep,    four   of    her 

damsels   lay : 
And   in   the  tliird,  the  cirrlct  of  the 

jousts 
Bound    on    iiir   brou,    were   Gavvain 

and    Ettarre. 


Back,  as  a  hand  that  pushes  thro' 

the  leaf 
To  rind  a  nest  and  feels  a  snake,  he 

drew : 
Back,  as  a  coward  slinks  from  what 

he    fears 
To  cope  \\  itii,  or  a  traitor  proven,  or 

hound 
Beaten,     did     Pelleas     in     an     utter 

shame 
Creep    with    his    shadow    thro'    the 

court  again. 
Fingering   at   his    .vvord-Iiandle   until 

he  stood 
There  on  the  castle-bridge  once  more. 

and  thought, 
"  I  w  ill  go  bacic,  and  slay  them  where 

they  li?." 

And  so  went  back  and  seeing  them 

yet  in  sleep 
Said,  "  Ye,  that  so  dishallow  the  holy 

sleep. 
Your  sleep   is   death,"  and  drew  the 

sword,  and  thoughr, 
"What!  slay  a  sleeping  knighr?  the 

King  hath  bound 
And  sworn  me  to  this  brotherhood ;  " 

again, 
"  Alas  that  ever  a  knight  should  be 

so  false." 
Then    turn'd,    and    so    return 'd,   and 

groaning  laid 


The  naked  sword  athwart  their  naked 

throats, 
There  left  it,  and  them  sleeping;  and 

she   lay, 
The  circlet  of  the  tourney  round  her 

blows. 
And  the  sword  of  the  tourney  across 

her  throat. 

And  forth  he  past,  and  mounting 
on  his  horse 

Stared  at  her  towers  that,  larger  than 
themselves 

In  their  own  darkness,  throng'd  into 
the  moon. 

Then  crush'd  the  saddle  with  his 
thighs,  and  clench'd 

His  hands,  and  madden'd  with  him- 
self and  moan'd: 

"  Would  they  have  risen  against  me 

in   their  blood 
At  the  last  day?     I  might  have  an- 

svter'd    them 
Even  before  high  God.     O  towers  so 

strong, 
H.ige,  solid,  would  that  even  wh'ie  I 

ga/.e 
The    crack    of    earthquake    shivering 

to  your  base 
Split   you,   and    Hell    burst   up   your 

harlot  roofs 
Bellowing,  and  charr'd  you  thro'  and 

thro'  within. 
Black  as  :he  harlot's  heart  —  hollow 

a^  a  skull! 
Let  the  fierce  exst  scream  thro'  your 

eyelet-holes, 
And  whirl  the  dust  of  harlots  round 

and   round 
In  dung  r  \d  nettles!  hiss,  snake  —  I 

saw  him  tiicre  — 
Let  the  fox  bark,   !;-t  th'*  wolf  yell. 

Who  >ells 
Here  in  the  still  swecl  summer  night, 

but  I  — 
I,  the  poor  Pelleas  whom  she  call'd 

her   fool  ? 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE 


Fool,   brast  —  he,   she,   or   1  ?  myself 

most  fool; 
Beast   too,   as  l»tkintc  human   wit 

disgraced, 
Dishonor'd     all     for    trial    of    true 

love  — 
Lovei*    ue    be    all    alike:    only    the 

Kinn 
Hath    made    us    fools   and    liars.     O 

nobli'  vows! 

0  great  and  sane  and  simple  race  of 

brutes 
That  own  no  lust  because  they  t'ave 

no  law! 
For  whv  should  I  have  loved  her  to 

my  shame? 

1  loathe  her,  as  I   loved   her   to  my 

slianit". 

I   never   loved  her,   1   but  lusted   for 

her  — 
Away  — ." 


349 


He    dash'd     the    rowel    into    his 
horse. 
And     bounded     forth    and     vanlsh'd 
thro'   the  night. 

Then  she,  that  felt  the  cold  touch 
on    her   throat, 
Awaking  knew  the  sword   and  turn'd 
herself 

To  Gawain :  "  Liar,  for  thou  hast  not 

slain 
This    Pelleas!    here    ht    stood,    and 

might  have  slain 
Me  and  thyself."     And  he  that  tells 

the   tale 
Sajs     that    her    ever-veering     fancy 

turn'd 
To  Pellcas,  as  the  one  true  knight  on 

earth. 
And  only  lover;  and   thro'  her   love 

her   life 

Wasted    and    pined,    desiring  him    in 
vain. 

But  he  by  wild  and  wav,  for  half 
the  night. 


And  over  hard  and  soft,  striking  the 

sod 
From  out  the  soft,  the  spark  from  oflE 

the   hard, 
Rode  till  the  star  above  the  awakening 

sun. 
Beside    that    tower    where    Percivale 

«as  cow  I'd, 
Glanced    from    the    ro>y    forehead   of 

the  da«n. 
For  so  the  words  were  Hash'd  into  his 

heart 
He  knew  not  whence  or  wherefore: 

"  O  sweet  star, 
Pure  or    the  virgin   forehead   of  the 

dav.n !  " 
And   there  he  would  have  wept,  but 

felt  his  eyes 
Harder    and    drier    than    a    fountain 
bed 

In  summer:  thither  came  the  village 

girls 
And  linger'd  talking,  and  they  come 

no  more 
Till   the  sweet  heavens  have  fiU'J  ,> 

frcm  the  heights 
Again    with     living    waters    in     the 

change 
Of   seasons:    hard    his    eyes;    harder 

his  heart 
Seem'd;     but     so     weary     were     his 

limbs,  that  he, 
Gasping,    "Of  Arthur's   hall   am    I 
but  here,  ' 

Here  let  me  rest  and  die,"  cast  him- 
self down, 
And  gulf'd  his  griefs  in  inmost  sleep- 
so  la)-. 

Till  shaken  by  a  dream,  that  Gawain 
fired 

The  hJl  of  Merlin,  and  the  morning 
star  *" 

Reel'd  in  the  smoke,  brake  into  flame 
and  fell. 


He  woke,  and  being  ware  of  some 
one  nigh, 


4 


350 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  Kh\G 


Sent  hands  upon  him,  a>  to  trar  hiin, 

tr)iiin. 
"  Falsr!    anil     I     hrlii     thcc    pure    as 

Cjuincvrrr." 

But   I'crcivalt  stood  near  him  and 

rcplifd, 
"  Am    1    but    false    ai    Ciuinevcrc    is 

pure  ? 
Or  art  tliou  maztvl   with  dreams?  ur 

btinn  one 
Of   our    trce-spoLcn   Table   luist    not 

head 
That    Lancelot  " —  there    he    tlieclt'd 

himself  and  paused. 

Then   fareil   it  with  Sir   Pelleas  as 

with  oil  • 
Who  yets  a  uound  in  battle,  and  the 

sw  ord 
That  made  it  plunt;es  thro'  the  wound 

again, 
And  pricks  it  deeper:  and   he  shrank 

and   wail'd, 
"  Is  the  0<"''''i  talse?  '   and  I'ercivale 

«  as  mute. 
"  Have  any  ot  our  Round   Table  held 

their  vow  3  .■'  " 
And    I'ercivale    mailc    answei    not    a 

word. 
"Is        the       Kln^;       true?"     "The 

King!"  said   I'ercivale. 
Why   then   let   men   couple   at   once 

v»  ith    wolves. 
What!   art   thou  mad?  " 

Hut   I'ellea>,   leaping  up. 
Ran  thro'  the  doors  and   vaulted  on 

his  horse 
And    tied:   •^iiiall   pity    upon   his  horse 

had   he, 
Or  on  himself,  or  any,  and  when  he 

met 
A  cripple,  one  that  held  a  hand   for 

alms  — 
Hunch'd   ns  he  was.  and   like  an  old 

dv\  arf-elni 


'1  hat  turns  it<>  back  on  the  salt  blast, 

the  hoy 
Paused  not,  but  overiodc  him,  shout- 
ing,  "  False, 
And  taUe  with  (lawain!  "  and  so  Ir'' 

him  bruised 
And    batter'd,    and    Hrd    on,    and    hill 

and    \\  ood 
Went  ever  streaming  liy  him   till  the 

gloom, 
That    follows  on   the   turning  of   the 

world, 
Darken'd      the     common      path:     he 

twitch'd  the   reins. 
And  made  his  beast  that  better  knew 

it,  swerve 
Now  off  it  and   now    on ;   but  w  lien 

he  ..aw 
High    up    in    Heaven    the    hall    that 

.Merlin  built. 
Blackening     against     the     dead-green 

stripes  of  even. 
Black    nest    of    rats,"    he    groan'd 

"  ye  build   too  high." 

Not  long  thereafter  from  the  city 

gates 
Issueil   Sir   Lancelot   riding   airilv, 
Warm  with  a  gracious  parting  from 

the  Queen, 
I'eace  at  his  heart,  and   gazing  at  a 

star 
And     marveling     what     it     was:     on 

whom   the  bo\', 
Across     the     silent     seeded     meadow- 
grass 
Borne,  clash'd:  and  Lancelot,  saying. 

What  name  hasl   thou 
That    ridest    here    so   blindly    and    so 

hard  ?  " 
No  name,  no  name,"  he  shouted,  "  a 

scourge  am  I 
To   lash    the    treasons   of   the   Table 

Round." 
"  \'ea,    but    thy    name?"     "I    have 

many   names,"   he  cried : 
I  ;un  w  ratli  and  shame  and  hate  ind 

evil    fame. 


'IIIK  LAST  TOrRNAiMENT  35, 

11^^^^  n„  u,n,|  1   ,Ms,  ,n      Down    „„    a    bench,    hardbrcafh.W. 

thcUuccn.'^  ''""^      '■"'\-''''    ','/    l-'n,rl„t.     "Aye,    my 

"i--irst     over     n,r,"     ,a„l      l.ance'ot       "AnVT"'  /"  '•'"'•    . 

"Shalt   thou   pas,  ■         '•'""■''»•         An.l   thou   ha.st  overthrown  him?" 

'■'td'^rur"*  '"^  ^-^'■-  ^'^-  ^- pr;:;"pe,.e..  -o 
^^^chSairr-'"'-'^-  "-«^^^^^       , 

The  weary  steed  of  IVll,  „  fl„,.„der-  So    iZ  'rh"  '' 

ioK   flunu  '•"    \^""  ^«"^t    not    bale,    unfro- 

His   rider,   who  tallM   out   .,om   the  A    f,V7  •'  ,      , ..     • 

.lark   (ield,  ^  '^    ^^"    ^"™  ''""■'  1  hen.    for    he 

Hut    here    will    I    d-scdse    it    by    thv      Hur    Vll""   I?""/ 

death."  ^     't    ny    tny      »ut  I  ellea^  l.fted  up  .in  .-ye  so  fierce 

"  "^'J^'lir'il^fhnckM.  ■'  ,ny  will  is         "  rlword  ■•    ''''  ''"'"'^  "  '  ''^^^ 


to  be  slain," 
And  Lancelot,  with  his  heel  upon  the 

fall  n. 
Rolli„K    his    eyes,    a    moment    stood 

then  spake :  ' 

"Rise,  weakling;  I  am  Lancelot;  say 

thy  say."  ' 


Sprang  from  the  door  into  the  dark 

1  he  Queen 
LookM    hard    upon    her    lover     he   on 

her: 

An.l   each    foresaw   the   dolorous   day 
to  be:  ' 

And  all  talk  died,  as  in  a  crove  all 
song 


Beneath  the  shadow  of  some  bird  of 
prey  ; 

T  lien  a  long  silence  came  upon    the 
nail, 

And  Modred  thought,  •' The  time  is 
hard  at  hand." 


And  Lancelot  slowly  rode  his  war- 
rorse  back 
To  Cameh.t,  and  Sir  Pelleas  in  brief 
while 

Caught  his  unbroken  limbs  from  the 

dark  field. 
And      foUow'd      to      the      city.     It 

chanced  that  both 
Brake^mto  hall   together,   worn  and        THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT 

'''Z:!Lin::.::r'^''  '-'   '^--  O-^^-.    ^^^   f-l.    whom   Cawam 

Full      uondcringly     she     irazed     on  „    , '        ."  """"'^ 

Lancelot      ^               ^    "'     °"  "^^"'m' u^"'^"''"''«''f  "^  ^"hur's 

So  s^return-d.  and  then  on  Pelleas.  At  cI^J  ^t^^S'^bove  the  yellowm. 

Who^  ha.^  not  greeted  her.   bnt  cast      Danf  d  ilk;  a  wither,  leaf  before  the 

hall. 


.1-4 


.-/If 


I 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  lESl   CHART  No    2! 


1.0 


I.I 


t  2.8       l||||  2.5 


I"     lllll  2.0 


1.8 


'•25    ill  1.4     i  1.6 


_J  APPLIED  IIVHGE     Inc 

^—i  -'■   t'JL*    yj  --    "^.t-pei 

■-^  lestef,    Ne*    ''ffk  UbC9        USA 

;■==  6)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 

=  6)   288   -  5989  -  Fax 


252 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


And  toward  hini  from  the  hall,  with 
harp  in  hand, 

And  from  the  crown  thereof  ? 
carcanet 

Of  ruby  swaying  to  and  fro,  the 
prize 

Of  Tristram  in  the  jousts  of  yester- 
day, 

Came  Tristram,  saying,  "  Why  skip 
ye  so.  Sir  Fool  ?  " 

For  Arthur  and  Sir  Lancelot  riding 

once 
Far  down  beneath  a  winding  wall  of 

rock 
Heard  a  child  wail.     A  stump  of  oak 

half-dead, 
From   roots  like  some   black  coil  of 

carven  snakes, 
Clutch'd    at    the    crag,    and    started 

thro'  mid  air 
Bearing  an  eagle's  nest:  and  thro'  the 

tree 
Rush'd  ever  a  rainy  wind,  and  thro' 

the  wind 
Pierced  ever  a  child's  cry:  and  crag 

and  tree 
Scaling,  Sir  Lancelot  from  the  peril- 
ous nest, 
This  ruby  necklace  thrice  around  her 

neck. 
And  all  unscarr'd  from  beak  or  talon, 

brought 
A  maiden  babe ;  which  Arthur  pitying 

took. 
Then  gave  it  to  his  Queen  to  rear: 

the  Queen 
But  coldly  acquiescing,  in  her  white 

arms 
Received,  and  after  loved  it  tenderly. 
And    named    it    Nestling;   so    forgot 

herself 
A  moment,   and  her  cares;  till  that 

young  life 
Being   smitten    in    mid    heaven    with 

mortal  cold 
Past  from  her ;  and  in  time  the  carca- 
net 


V^ext  her  with  plaintive  memories  of 
the  child: 

So  she,  delivering  it  to  Arthur,  said, 

"  Take  thou  the  jewels  of  this  dead 
innocence, 

And  make  ciit-m,  an  thou  wilt,  a  tour- 
ney-prize." 

To   whom   the   King,   "Peace  to 

thine  eagle-borne 
Dead  nestling,  and  this  honor  after 

death. 
Following    thy    will!     but,    O    my 

Queen,  1  muse 
Why  ye  not  wear  on  arm,  or  neck,  or 

zone 
Those  diamonds  that  I  rescued  from 

the  tarn. 
And    Lancelot  won,   methought,    for 

thee  to  wear." 

"  Would  rather  you  had  let  them 
fall,"  she  cried, 

"  Plunge  and  be  lost  —  ill-fated  as 
they  were, 

A  bitterness  to  me! — ye  look 
amazed, 

Not  knowing  they  were  lost  as  soon 
as  given  — 

Slid  from  my  hands,  when  I  was 
leaning  out 

Above  the  river  —  that  unhappy  child 

Past  in  her  barge:  but  rosier  luck 
will  go 

With  these  rich  jewels,  seeing  that 
they  came 

Not  from  the  skeleton  of  a  brother- 
slayer, 

But  the  sweet  body  of  a  maiden  babe. 

Perchance  —  who  knows?  —  the  pur- 
est of  thy  knights 

May  win  them  for  the  purest  of  my 
maids," 

She  ended,  and  the  cry  of  a  great 
joust 
With  trumpet-blowings  ran  on  all  the 
ways 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT 


353 


From   Camelot   in   among  the   fadet' 

fields 
To  furthest  towers;  and  everywhere 

the  knights 
Arm'd  for  a  day  of  glory  before  the 

King. 

But  on  the  hither  side  of  that  loud 
morn 

Into  the  hall  stagger'd,  his  visage 
ribb'd 

Fron  ear  to  ear  with  dogwhip-weals, 
his  nose 

Bridge-broken,  one  eye  out,  and  one 
hand  off, 

And  one  with  shatter'd  fingers  dan- 
gling lame, 

A  churl,  to  whom  indignantly  the 
King, 

"  My  churl,  for  whom  Christ  died, 
what  evil  beast 

Hath  drawn  his  claws  atiiwart  thy 
face?  or  fiend? 

Man  was  it  who  marr'd  heaven's  im- 
age in  thee  thus?  " 

Then,  sputtering  thro'  the  hedge  of 

splinter'd  teeth. 
Yet  strangers  to  the  tongue,  and  with 

blunt  stump 
Pitch-blacken  d   sawing   the   air,   said 

the  maim'd  churl, 

"  He  took  them  and  he  drave  them 

to  his  tower  — 
Some  hold   he  was  a  table-kiiight  of 

thine  — 
A    hundred    goodly    ones  —  the    Red 

Knight,   he  — 
Lord,   I  was  tending  swine,  and  the 

Red  Knight 
Brake   in   upon   me  and   drave   them 

to  his  tower ; 
And  when  I  call'd  upon  thy  name  as 

one 
That   dnest   right  by   gentle  and   by 

churl. 


Maim'd  me  and  maul'd,  and  would 

outright   have   slain. 
Save  that  he  sware  me  to  a  message, 

saying, 
'  Tell  thou  the  King  and  all  his  liars, 

tha;  I 
Have   founded   my  Round   Table  in 

the  North, 
And  whatsoever  his  own  knights  have 

sworn 
My  knights  have  sworn  the  counter 

to  it  —  and  say 
My  tower  is  full  of  harlots,  like  his 

court. 
But   mine   are  worthier,   seeing   they 

profess 
To  be  none  other  than  themselves  — 

and  say 
My  knights  are  all  adulterers  like  his 

own. 
But  mine  are  truer,  seeing  they  pro- 
fess 
To  be  none  other;  and  say  his  hour 

is  come, 
The  heathen  are  upon  him,  his  long 

lance 
Broken,  and  his  Excalibur  a  straw.'  " 

Then  Arthur  tum'd  to  Kay  the 
seneschal, 

"  Take  thou  my  churl,  and  tend  him 
curiously 

Like  a  king's  heir,  till  all  his  hurts 
be  whole. 

The  heathen  —  but  that  ever-climb- 
ing wave, 

Hurl'd  back  again  so  often  in  empty 
foam, 

Hath  lain  for  years  at  rest  —  and 
renegades. 

Thieves,  bandits,  leavings  of  confu- 
sion, whom 

The  wholesome  realm  is  purged  of 
otherwhere, 

Friends,  thro'  your  manhood  and 
your  fealty, —  now 

Make  their  last  head  like  Satan  in 
the  North. 


I 


354 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


My   younger   knights,    new-made,    in 

whom  your  flower 
Waits    to    he    solid    fruit    of    golden 

deeds. 
Move   with   me    toward    their   quell- 
ing, which  athicvi'd. 
The    loneliest    ways    are    safe    from 

shore  to  shore. 
But  thou,  Sir  Lancelot,  sitting  in  my 

place 
Enchair'd    to-morrow,    arbitrate    the 

field ; 
For  wherefore  shouldst  thou  care  to 

mingle  with  it, 
Only   to   yield    my   Queen    her   own 

again  ? 
Speak,  Lancelot,  thou  art  silent:  is  it 

well?" 

Thereto     Sir     Lancelot     answer'd, 

"  It  is  well : 
Yet    better    if   the    King   abide,    and 

leave 
The  leading  of  his  younger  knights  to 

me. 
Else,  for  the  King  has  will'd  it,  it  is 

well." 

Then    Arthur    rose    and    Lancelot 

follow'd  him, 
And    while    they    stood    without    the 

doors,  the  King 
Turn'd  to  him  saying,  "  Is  it  then  so 

well  ? 
Or  mine  the  blaine  that  oft  I  seem 

as  he 
Of  whom  was  written,  '  A  sound   is 

in  his  ears  '  ? 
The   foot   that   loiters,   bidden   go,— 

the  glance 
That   only  seems   half-loyal   to  com- 
mand,— 
A     manner    somewhat     fall'n     from 

reverence  — 
Or  have  I  drcani'd  the  bearing  of  our 

knights 
Tells   of    a   manhood    ever    less    and 

lower  ? 


Or  whence  the  fear  lest  this  my 
realm,   uprear'd. 

By  noble  deeds  at  one  with  noble 
vows. 

P^rom  flat  confusion  and  brute  vio- 
lences. 

Reel  back  into  the  beast,  and  be  no 
more  r 

He     spoke,     and     taking     all     his 

younger  knights, 
Down     the     slope     city     rode,     and 

sharply  turn'd 
North    by    the    gate.     In    her    high 

bower  the  Queen, 
Working    a    tapestry,    lifted    up    her 

head, 
Watch'd  her  lord  pass,  and  knew  not 

that  she  sigh'd. 
Then    ran    across    her    memory    the 

strange  rhyme 
Of   bygone    Merlin,    "  Where    is   he 

who  knows? 
From    the    great   deep    to    the    great 

deep  he  goes." 

But  when  the  morning  of  a  tour- 
nament. 

By  these  in  earnest  these  in  mockery 
call'd 

The  Tournament  of  the  Dead  Inno- 
cence, 

Brake  with  a  wet  wind  blowing, 
Lancelot, 

Round  whose  sick  head  all  night,  like 
birds  of  prey. 

The  words  of  Arthur  flying  shriek'd, 
arose. 

And  down  a  streetway  hung  with 
folds  of  pure 

White  samite,  and  by  fountains  run- 
ning wine. 

Where  children  sat  in  white  with  cups 
of  gold, 

Moved  to  the  lists,  and  there,  with 
slow  sad  steps 

Ascending,  fiU'd  his  double-dragon'd 
chair. 


THE  LAST  TOURNAiMENT 


355 


He    glanced    and    saw    the    stately  But    newly-enter'd,    taller    t'lan    the 

galltnes,  rest, 

Uainc,  uanisel,  each  thro'  worship  of  And    armor'd    all    in     forest    green, 

tiieir  Queen  whereon 

VVhite-rohed    in   lienor   of   the   stain-  Th  '■     tript    a    hundred    tiny    silver 

les^'  child,  deer, 

And  some  with  scatter'd  jewels,  like  a  And    wearinj^   but   a   holly-spray    for 

bank  crest. 

Of  maiden  snow   mingled  with  sparks  With  ever-scattering  berries,  and  or 

of  Hre.  siiield 

He   look'd    but   once,   and   vail'd   his  A  spear,  a  harp,  a  bugle  —  Tristram 

eyes  again.  —  late 

From   overseas    in    Brittany    return'd, 

The  sudden  trumpet  sounded  as  in  And  marriage  with  a  princess  of  that 

a  dream  realm. 

To   ears   but   half-awaked,   then   one  Isolt    the    White  —  Sir   Tristram    of 

low  roll  the  Woods  — 

Of  autumn   thunder,   and   the  jousts  Whom     Lancelot     knew,     "lad     held 

began:  sometime  with  pain 

And  ever  the  wind  blew,  and  yellow-  His    own     against     him,     and     now 

ing  leaf  yearn'd  to  shake 

And    gloom   and   gleam,   and   shower  The  burthen  off  his  heart  in  one  full 

and  shorn  plume  shock 

Went    down    it.     Sighing   weariedly,  With    Tristram    ev'n    to    death:    his 

as  one  strong  hands  giipt 

Who  sits  and  gazes  on  a  faded  fire.  And  dinted  the  gilt  dragons  right  and 

When  all  the  goodlier  guests  are  past  left, 


away. 
Sat  their  great  umpire,   looking  o'er 

the  lists. 
He  saw  the  laws  that  ruled  the  tour- 
nament 
Broken,     but     spake     not;    once,     a 

knight    ,;ist   down 
Before     his     throne     of     arbitration 

cursed 
The  dead  babe  and  the  follies  of  the 

King ; 
And    once    the    laces    of    a    helmet 

crack 'd. 
And  show'd  him,  like  a  vermin  in  its 

hole, 
Modred,    a    narrow    face:    anon    he 

heard 
The    voice    that   billow'd    round    the      Not     speaking     other     word      than, 

barriers  roar  "  Hast  thou  won? 

An    ocean-sounding   welcome   to   one     Art  thou   the  purest,  brother?     See, 

knight,  the  hand 


Until    he     groan'd     for    wrath  —  so 

many  of  those. 
That  ware  their  ladies'  colors  on  the 

casque. 
Drew    from   before   Sir   Tristram   to 

the  bounds, 
And   there  with  gibes  and  flickering 

mockeries 
Stood,    while   he   mutter'd,   "  Craven 

crests !     O  shame ! 
What  faith  have  these  in  whom  they 

sware  to  love? 
The  glory  of  our  Round  Table  is  no 

more." 

So   Tristram    won,    and    Lancelot 
gave,  the  gems, 


3S6 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Wherewith  thou  takcst  this,  is  red!  " 

to  u  horn 
Tristram,  half  plagued  by  Lancelot's 

languorous  mood. 
Made  answer,  "Aye,   but  wherefore 

toss  me  this 
Like  a  dry  bone  cast  to  some  hungry 

hound  ? 
Let    be    thy    fair    Queen's    fantasy. 

Strength   of   heart 
And   might  of  limb,   but  mainly  use 

and  skill. 
Are  winners  in   this  pastime  of   our 

Kin^. 
My    hand  —  belike    the    lance    hath 

dript  upon  it  — 
No   blood   of   mine,    I    trow ;   but   O 

chief  knight. 
Right  arm  of  Arthur   in  the   battle- 
field. 
Great  brother,  thou  nor  I  have  made 

the  world ; 
Be  happy  in  thy  fair  Queen  as  I  in 

mine." 

And  Tristram  round  the  gallery 
made  his  horse 

Caracole;  then  bow'd  his  homage, 
bluntly  saying, 

"  F"air  damsels,  each  to  him  who  wor- 
ships each 

Sole  Queen  of  Beauty  and  of  love,  be- 
hold 

This  dav  my  Queen  of  Beauty  is  not 
here." 

And  most  of  these  were  mute,  some 
anger'd,  one 

Murmuring,  "Ail  couitesy  is  dead," 
and  one, 

"  The  glory  of  our  Round  Table  is 
no  more." 

Then  fell  thick  rain,  plume  drcopt 

and  mantle  clung, 
And  pettish  cries  awoke,  and  the  wan 

day 
Went   glooming   down   in  wet   and 

weariness: 


But  under  hrr  black  brows  a  swarthy 

one 
Laugh'd  shrilly,  crying,   "  Praise  the 

patii'nt  saints, 
Our  one  white  day  of  Innocence  hath 

past, 
Tho'  somewhat  draggled  at  the  skirt. 

So  be  it. 
The  snowdrop  only,    flowering   thro' 

the  year, 
Would  make  the  world  as  blank  as 

Winter-tide. 
Come  —  let  us  gladden  their  sad  eyes, 

our  Queen's 
And    Lancelot's,    at    this    night's    so- 
lemnity 
With   all   the  kindlier  colors  of  the 

field." 


So  dame  and  damsel  glitter'd  at  the 

feast 
Variously   gay:  for  he  that  tells  the 

tale 
Liken'd    them,    saying,    as    when    an 

hour  of  cold 
Falls  on  the  mountain  in  midsummer 

sno\ss. 
And  all  the  purple  slopes  of  mountain 

floucrs 
Pass  under  white,  till  the  warm  hour 

returns 
With  veer  of  wind,  and  all  are  flow- 
ers again ; 
So  dame  and  damsel  cast  the  simple 

white. 
And   glowing  in  all  colors,   the  live 

grass, 
Rose-campion,       bluebell,       kingcup, 

poppy,  glanced 
About  the  revels,  and  with  mirth  so 

loud 
Beyond  all  use,  that,  half-amazed,  the 

Quern, 
And  wroth  at  Tristram  and  the  law- 
less jousts, 
Brake  up  their  fports,  then  slowly  to 

her  bower 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT 


357 


Parted,  and  in  her  bosom   pain   was 
lord. 


And  little  Da^onft  on  the  morrow 
morn, 
High  over  all  the  yellou  ing  Autumn- 
tide, 
Danced  like  a  wither'd  leaf  before  the 

hall. 
Then    Tristram    saying,    "  Why    skip 

j-e  so,  Sir  Fool?  " 
Wheel'd   round  on  either  heel,  Dag- 

I'net   replied, 
"Belike   for   lack  of  wiser  company; 
Or  being  fool    and  seeing  too  much 

wit 
Makes  the  world  rotten,  why,  belike 

I  skip 
To  know  myself  the  wisest  knight  of 

all." 
"  Aye,  fool,"  said  Tristram,  "  but  'tis 

eating  dry 
To  dance  without  a  catch,  a  rounde- 
lay 
To   dance   to."     Then    he   twangled 

on  his  harp, 
And   while  he   twangled   little   Dag- 

onet  stood 
Quiet  as  any  water-sodden  log 
Stay'd  in  the  wandering  warble  of  a 

brook ; 
But  when  the  twangling  ended,  skipt 

again; 
And  being  ask'd,  "  Why  skipt  ye  not, 

Sir  Fool?" 
Made  answer,  "  I  had  liefer  twenty 

years 
Skip    to    the    broken    music    of    my 

brains 
Than   any  broken   music   thou   canst 

make." 
Then  Tristram,  waiting  for  the  quip 

to  come. 
Good    now,    what    music    have    I 

broken,  fool?  " 
And   little   Dagonet,   skipping,   "'  Ar- 
thur, the  King's; 


F"or  when  thou  playest  that  air  with 
Queen   Is(jlt, 

Thou  makcst  broken  music  with  thy 
bride, 

Her  daintier  namesake  down  in  Brit- 
tany — 

And  so  tiiou  breakest  Arthur's  music, 

too." 
"  Save  for  that  broken  music  in  thy 

brains, 
Sir  F'ool,"  said  Tristrain,  "  I  would 

break  thy  head. 
Fool,   I  came  late,  the  heathen  wars 

were  o'er, 
The  life  had  Hown,  we  sware  but  by 

the  shell  — 
I    am    but   a   fool    to    reason    with   a 

fool  — 
Come,  thou  art  crabb'd  and  sour:  but 

lean  me  down. 
Sir  Dagonet,  one  of  thy  long  asses' 

ears. 
And  harken  if  my  music  be  not  true. 

"  '  Free  love  —  free  field  —  we  love 

but  while  we  may: 
The  woods  arc  hush'd,  their  music  is 

no  more: 
The  leaf  is  dead,  the  yearning  past 

a«  ay : 
New  leaf,  new  life  —  the  days  of  frost 

are  o'er: 
New  life,  new  love,  to  suit  the  newer 

day: 
New   loves  are   sweet   as   those    that 

went  before: 
Free  love  —  free  field  —  we  love  but 

while  we  may.' 

"  Ye  might  have  moved  slow-meas- 
ure to  my  tune, 

Not  stood  stockstill.  I  made  it  in  the 
woods. 

And  heard  it  ring  as  true  as  tested 
gold." 

But  Dagonet  with  one  foot  poised 
in  his  hand, 


I 


3S8 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


"  Friend,   did   yc   iiiarlc   tliat   fountain 

ytsterday 
Made   to   run   wine?  —  but   thi-,  had 

run   itself 
AJl   out    like   a   long   life    to   a   sour 

end  — 
And    them    that    round    it    sat    with 

golden  cups 
To    hand     the    wine    to    whosoever 

came  — 
The    twelve    small    damsels    white    as 

Innocence, 
In     honor    of    poor     Innocence    the 

babe, 
Who  left  the  gems  which   Innocence 

tlie  Queen 
Lent  to  the  King,  and  Innocence  the 

King 
Gave  for  a  prize  —  and  one  of  those 

white  slips 
Handed  her  cup  and  piped,  the  pretty 

one, 
'  Drink,  drink.  Sir  Fool,'  and  there- 
upon  I  drank, 
Spat  —  pish  —  the  cup  was  gold,  the 
draught  was  mud." 


And  Tristram,   "  Was  it  muddier 

than  thy  gibes? 
Is  all  the  laughter  gone  dead  out  of 

thee  ?  — 
Not    marking    how    the    knighthood 

mock  thee,  fool  — 
'Fear    God:    honor    the    King  —  his 

one  true  knight  — 
Sole  follower  of  the  vows  ' —  for  here 

be  they 
Who  knew  thee  swine  enow  before  I 

came, 
Smuttier     than     blasted     grain:    but 

when  the  King 
Had   made   thee    fool,   thy  vanity  so 

shot  up 
It  frighted  all  free  fool  from  out  thy 

heart; 
Which   left  thee  less  than   fool,  and 

less  than  swine. 


A    naked    aught  —  yet    swine    I    hold 

thee  still, 
For  I  have  Hung  thee  pearls  and  find 

thee  swine.  " 

And   little    Uagonet    mincing   with 

his   feet, 
"Knight,    an    )v    (ling    tho  e    rubies 

round  my  neck 
In   lieu   of   hers,   I'll   hold   thou   hast 

some  tdiich 
Of   music,   since    I    care    not    for    thy 

pearls. 
Swine?     I    have    wallow'd,    I    have 

wasii'd  —  the  \\  orld 
Is  flesh  and  sh-idow  —  I  have  had  my 

day. 
The   dirty   nurse,    Experience,    in   her 

kind 
Hath    foul'd    me  —  an     I     wallow'd, 

then  I  waih'd  — 
I  have  had  my  day  and  mj    pliiloso- 

phies  — 
And  thank  the  Lord  I  am  King  Ar- 
thur's fool. 
Swine,    say    ye?    swine,    goats,    asses, 

rams  and  geese 
Troop'd  round  a  I'aynim  harper  onci-, 

who  thrumm'd 
On  such  a  wire  as  musically  as  thou 
Some   such    fine   song — but    never    a 

king's  fool." 

And  Tristram,  "  Then  were  swine, 

goats,  asses,  geese 
The  wiser   fools,   seeing  thy   Payniiii 

bard 
Had  such  a  mastery  of  his  mystery 
That  he  could  harp  his  wife  up  out  of 

hell." 

Tlien  Dagonet,  turning  on  the  ball 

of  his  toot, 
"And    whither    harp'st    thou    thine? 

(low  n  !  and  thyself 
Down!    and    two    more:    a    helpful 

harper  thou, 


THE  LAST  TOURNAiMENT 


That  harpest  dowiui  ani !     Dost  thou 

know  tlie  star 
We  call   the   harp  of  Arthur   up  in 

heaven  ?  " 

And  Tristram,  "  Aye,  Sir  Fool,  for 

when  our  Kin;j 
Was  victor  wcll-nij;h  day  liy  day,  the 

knights. 
Glorying  in  each  new  glory,  set  his 

name 
High  on  all  hills,  and  in  the  signs  of 

heaven." 

And  Dagonet  answcr'd,  "  Aye,  and 

v\hen   the  land 
Was  freed,  and   the  Queen  false,  ye 

set  yourself 
To   babble   about   him,   all   to   show 

your  wit  — 
And  whether  he  were  King  by  cour- 
tesy. 
Or    King    by    right  —  and    so    went 

iiarping  down 
The  black  king's  highway,  got  so  far, 

and  grew 
So  witty  that  ye  play'd  at  ducks  and 

drakes 
With  Arthur's  vows  on  the  great  lake 

of  fire. 
Tuwhoo!  do  ye  see  it?  do  ye  see  the 

star?" 

"  Nay.  fool,"  said  Tristram,  "  not 

in  open  day." 
And  Dagonct,  "  Nay,  nor  will:  I  see 

it  and  hear. 
It     makes     a     silent     music     up     in 

heaven. 
And    I,   and  Arthur  and   tlie   angels 

hear. 
And  then  we  skip."     "  Lo,  fool,"  he 

said,  "ye  talk 
Fool's     treason:     is     the     King     thy 

brother  fnol ?  " 
Then  little  Dagonet  clapt  his  hands 

and  shriU'd, 


359 

"  Aye,  aye,  my  brother  fool,  the  king 

of  fools! 
Conceits  himself  as  God  that  he  can 

make 
Figs  out  of  thistles,  silk  from  bristles, 

milk 
From    burning    spurge,    honey    from 

hcrnet-conibs, 
And    men    from    beasts  —  Long    live 

the  king  of  fc   Is!  " 

And  down  the  city  Dagonct  danced 
away  ; 
But  thro'   the  slowlj-mellowing  ave- 
nues 
And    S(dit:iry   passes   of   the   wood 
Kode   Fristram  toward  L\onnessc  and 

the  ucst. 
Before    him    fled    the    face   of   Queen 

Isolt 
With    ruby-circled    neck,    but    ever- 
more 
Past,    as   a   rustle   or   twitter    in    the 

wood 
.Made   dull   his  inner,   keen   his  outer 

ej'e 
For    all    that    walk'd,    or    crept,    or 

perch 'd,  or  tlew. 
Anon  the  face,  as,  when  a  gust  hath 

blown, 
Unruffiing      waters      re-collect      the 

shape 
Of  one  that  la  them  sees  himself,  re- 

turn'd; 
But  at  the  slot  or  fewmets  of  a  deer. 
Or    ev'n    a    fall'n    feather,    vanish'd 
again. 

So  on  for  all  that  day  from  lawn  to 

lawn 
Thro'  many  a  league-long  bower  he 

rode.     At  length 
A     lodge    of     intertwisted     beechen- 

boughs 
Furze-cramm'd,     and     bracken-rooft, 

the  which  himself 
Built  for  a  summer  day  with  Queen 

Isolt 


360 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Against  a  shower,  Jark  in  the  golden 
t;rove 

Appcarini;,  sent  his  fancy  back,  to 
where 

She  liveJ  a  moon  in  that  low  lodge 
with  him: 

Till  Mark  her  lord  had  past,  the  Cor- 
nish KinK, 

With  six  or  seven,  when  Tristram 
was  away, 

And  snatch'd  her  thence;  yet  dreading 
worse  than  .-.hame 

Her  warrior  Tristram,  spake  not  any 
uord, 

But  bode  his  hour,  devisinj^  wretched- 
ness. 


And    now    that    desert    lodge    to 
Tristram  lookt 
So  sweet,  tliat  halting,  in  he  past,  and 

sank 
Down  on  a  drift  of  foliage  random- 
blown  ; 
But  could  not  rest  for  musing  how  to 

smooth 
And   sleek  his  marriage  over   to  the 

Queen. 
Perchance  in  lone  Tintagil   far  from 

all 
The  tonguesters  of  the  court  she  had 

not  heard. 
But    then    what   folly   had    sent   him 

overseas 
After    she    left    him    lonely    here?    a 

name  ? 
Was  it  the  name  of  one  in  Brittany, 
Isolt,    the    daughter    of    the    King? 

"  Isolt 
Of  the  white  hands  "  they  call'd  her; 

the  sweet  name 
Allured  him  first,  and  then  the  maid 

herself, 
Who    served    him    well    with    those 

white  hands  of  hers, 
And  loved  him  well,  until  himself  had 

thought 
He  loved  her  also,  wedded  easily, 


Hut   left   her  ail   as  easily,   and   re- 

turn'd. 
The  black-blue   Irish  hair  and   Irish 

eyes 
Had      drawn       him       home  —  what 

marvel  ?  then  he  laid 
His  brows  upon  the  drifted  leaf  and 

dreajn'd. 

He  seem'd   to  pace   the  strand  of 

Urittany 
Between    Isolt    of    Britain    and    his 

bride. 
And    show'd    them    both    the    ruby- 
chain,  and  both 
Began    to    struggle    for    it,    till    his 

Queen 
Griispt  it  so  hard,  that  all  her  hand 

uas  red. 
Then  cried  the  Breton,  "  Look,  her 

hand  is  red! 
These    be   no    rubies,    this    is   frozen 

blood, 
And    melts    within    hei    hand  —  her 

hand   is  hot 
With  ill  desires,  but  this  I  gave  thee, 

look. 
Is    all    as    cool    and    white    as    any 

flower  " 
Follow'd  a  rush  of  eagle's  wings,  and 

then 
A   whimpering   of   the   spirit   of   the 

child, 
Because  the  twain  had  spoil'd  her  car- 

canet. 

He   dream'd;   but   Arthur   with   a 

hundred  spears 
Rode  far,  till  o'er  the  illimitable  reed, 
And  many  a  glancing  plash  and  sal- 

lowy  isle, 
The  wide-wing'd  sunset  of  the  misty 

marsh 
Glared  on  a  huge  machicolated  tower 
That  stood  with  open  door?,  where- 

out  was  '•oH'd 
A  roar  of  riot,  as  from  men  secure 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT 

Amid  their  marshrs,   ruffians  at  tlicir 


361 


Amoiin    their    harlot-brulrs,    an    evil 

sonn. 
"  Lo,    thrre,"    saul    one    ot    Arthur's 

youth,   for  then'. 
Hij;h  on  a  ^riiii  di  .1  I  tree  before  the 

toMor, 
A  Roodly  brother  of  t'  r-  Table  Round 
Swung    by    the    neck :    and    on    the 

bou^h'*  a  shield 
Showing  a  shower  of  blood  in  a  field 

noir, 
And  there  beside  a  horn,  inllamed  the 

knif^hts 
At    that    dishonor    done    the    gilded 

spur, 
Till  each  would  clash  the  shield,  and 

blow  the  horn. 
But  Arthur  waved  them  back.     Alone 

he  rode. 
Then   at  the   dry   harsh   roar  of   the 

great   horn, 
That  sent  the  face  of  all  the  marsh 

aloft 
An   ever   upward-rushing  storm   and 

cloud 
Of  shriek  and  plume,  the  Red  Knight 

heard,  and  all, 
Even   to   tipmost   lance   and    topmost 

helm, 
In  blood-red  armor,  sallying,  howl'd 

to  the  King: 


"  The  teeth  of  Hell  —  flay  bare 
and  gnash  thee  flat!  — 

Lo!  art  thou  not  that  ..iiuch-heartcd 
King 

\V7io  fain  had  dipt  free  manhood 
from  the  \v  orld  — 

The  woman-worshiper?  Yea,  God's 
curse,  and  I ! 

Slain  was  the  brother  of  my  para- 
mour 

By  a  knight  of  thine,  and  I  that  heard 
her  whine 

And  snivel,  being  eunuch-hearted,  too 


Sware    by    the    scorpion-worm     that 

twi-its  in  hell, 
And  stings  itself  (o  everla-.tin;;  death, 
lo  hang  whatever  knight  oi   thine   I 

fought 
And    tuniblrd.     Art    thou    King?  — 

Ljok  to  thy  life!  " 

He  ended:  Arthur  knew  tiie  voice; 
the   face 
Well-nigh    was    helmet-hidden,    and 

the  name 
Went  v^andering  somewhere  darkling 

in   his  mind. 
And  Arthur  deign'd  not  use  of  word 

or  sword, 
But  let  the  drunkard,  as  he  stretch'd 

from  horse 
1  o     strike     him,     overbalancing     his 

bulk, 
Down   from  the  causeway  heavily  to 

the  swamp 
I' all,  as   the  crest  of  some  slow-arch- 
ing wave. 
Heard  in  dead  night  along  that  table- 
shore, 
Drops  flat,  and  after  the  great  waters 

break 
Whitening  for  half  a  league,  and  thin 

themselves. 
Far  over  sands  marbled   with   moon 

and  cloud, 
From   less  and  less  to  nothing;  thus 

he  fell 
Head-heavy;    then    the   knights,   who 

watch'd  him,  roar'd 
And   shouted   and    leapt    down    upon 

the  fall'n; 
There  trampled  out  his  face  from  be- 
ing known. 
And    sank    his    head    in    mire,    and 

slimed  themselves: 
Nor   heard    the   King  for  their  own 

cries,   but  sprang 
Thro'  open  doors,  and  swording  right 

and   left 
Men,  women,  on  their  sodden  faces, 
hurl'd 


■I 


^62 


IDYLLS  OF   THL   KLNG 


'1  he   t.-ltilcs   Dvrr   .111.1    the    w  m<>,    .uul 

lill  ,ill  the  ratters  r.in^  v\  itli  udiu.ui- 

y.-lls 
And  all  tlic  pavfmciit  strraiuM  with 

massacrr ; 
Then,    ctlioiiin   yi-11    with    yrll,    they 

tircii   the  tiiuer, 
Whiih   halt   that   autumn   ril^jiit,   like 

tiie  live  North, 
Red-piilsinK     up     thro'     Aliotli     and 

AK'or, 
Made   all    above   it,    and   a   hundred 

meres 
About   it,  a<   the  water   Moab  saw- 
Come  round  by  the  1  ast,  and  out  be- 
yond them  flush'd 
The   lonK   lo  V   dune,   and   lazy-plun- 
ging sea. 

So   all    the    wa\s    were   safe    from 
shore   to  shore, 
But  in  the  heart  of  Arthur  pain  was 
lord. 

Then,  out  of  Tristram  waking,  the 

red  dream 
Fled  w  ith  a  shout,  ami  tlia'  low  lodge 

rcturn'il, 
Mid-forc>t,  and  the  wind  among  the 

boughs. 
He  whistled  his  good  warhorse  left  to 

graze 
Among     the     forest     greens,     vaulted 

upon  him, 
And   rode  beneath   an   ever-showering 

leaf. 
Till  one  lone  woman,  weeping  near  a 

cross, 
Stay'd      him.     "Why      weep     ye?" 

"  Lord,"   she   said,  "  my   man 
Hath  left  me  or  is  dead;"  whereon 

he   thought  — 
"What,    if    she    hate    me    now?     I 

would  not  this. 
Wliat,  if  she  love  me  still?     I  would 

not  that. 


1    know    not    what    I    woulii  " — but 

said  H)  her, 
"  \ct  wee.i  not  tlmi.,  h-.t,  if  thy  mate 

return, 
He  find  thy  favor  changed  and   love 

thee  not  " — 
Then  pressing  day  by  day  thro'  Lyon- 

nessc 
l..ist  in  a  roky  liollnu,  belling,  heanl 
The    hounds    of    Mark,    and    felt    the 

goodly  hounds 
■^'elp  at  his   heart,  but  turning,  past 

and   gain'd 
Tintagil,    half    in   sea,    and    high   on 

land, 
.•\  crown  of  towers. 

Down  in  a  casement  sat, 
A  low  sea-sunset   glorying  round  her 

hair 
.'\nd    glossy  throated    grace,    Isolt   the 

Queen. 
And  when  she  heard  the  feet  of  Tris- 
tram grind 
The  spiring  stone  that  scaled   about 

her  tower, 
p'lusb'd,    started,    met    him    at    the 

doors,    and   there 
Belted   his  body  with  her  white  em- 
brace, 
Crying    aloud,     "Not     Mark  — not 

.Mark,  my  soul! 
The  footstep  flutter'd  me  at  first:  not 

he: 
Catlike  thro'  his  own  castle  steals  my 

Mark, 
But  warrior-wise   thou  stridest  thro' 

his  halls 
Who  hates  thee,  as  I  him  —  ev'n  to 

the  death. 
My  soul,    I    felt   my  hatred   for   my 

.Mark 
Quicken   within   me,   and  knew   that 

thou  wert  nigh." 
To  whom  Sir  Tristram  smiling,  "  I 

am  here. 
Let   be   thy   Mark,  seeing  he   is  not 
thine." 


lill.  LAST  TOURNAMENT 


3(>3 


And   drawing  somculiat    l>.u  Lw  ,ii,l  If  prize  she  «  1 1 .         (.   :,3l  iinr\r! — 

!.lie  rrpli-'.i,  ,i„.  ,,,j,j,|   ^,.,.^  __ 

"  Can  he  be  v\ri/nt;'.l  who  lb  nut  cv'ii  1  lunc,     trit-nd  ;    ami    ever    since    my 

his  (iwn,  craven   seeks 

Hut  save  for  dread  of  thic  hail  beaten  To   wreck    th<r   \  lllaino^J^I^  ;    but     () 


nie, 


Scratch'd,  bitten,  bhnded,  marr'd  me      Wliat  dame  or  damsel  have  \e  kneei'd 
yimelunv  —  Mark  ? 
♦  What    ri^ihts    are    his    that    dan-    not 


Sir  Knight, 
at  dame 
to   laMt  : 


strike    for   then)? 
Not  lift  a  hand  —  not,  tho'  he  fouiiii 

me  thus! 
Hut  harken!  have  ye  met  him?  hence 

he   went 
To-day  for  three  days'  hunting  —  as 

he  said  — 
And  so  returns  belike  w  itliin  an  liour. 


And  'Iristram,  "  Last  to  in>  Queen 

i'aramount, 
Mere   now   to   n./  (Jueen    l*ar;unount 

ol    io\e 
And     loveliness —  a>e,     lovel.er     than 

when   first 
Her  li^ht  feet  fell  on  our  rout;h  Lyon- 


Mi  >  , ,        ,  n''s^e, 

arks  v\ay,  mv  sou!    — but  eat  not      c    i-       i  i     i      i  .■ 

,1  '.  ,    ;,     ,  >SailinK  truiii  Ireland, 

thou  with  Mark, 

Because  he  hates  thee  even  more  than 

fears;  __    ,  Softly  laugh'd   Isolt; 

Nor   drink:    and   when    thou    passest      "  ^'after  nie   not,    for   hath   not  our 


any  wood 


;;reat  Queen 


Close  vizor,  lest  an  arrow  from  the  •^^>'  '^"'''  "^  '^-auty  trebled?"  and  he 

bush  „       said, 

Should  leave  me  all  alone  with  Mark  "  ^''"'^  ^''^^^^Y  ''^  her  beauty,  and  thine, 

and  hcli.  thine. 

My  God,  the  measure  of  my  hate  for  ^"'^  ^^ine  is  more  to  me  — soft,  gra- 

Mark  cious,  kind  — 

Is   as    the    measure   of   my   love    for  ^^^'^  ^^^en    thy    Mark   is  kindled  on 

thee."  thy  lips 

Most  gracious;  hut  she,  haughty,  ev'n 

So,   pluck'd   one  way  by  hate  and  '"  him, 

one  by  love,  Lancelot;   for   I   have  seen   him   wan 

Drain'd  of  her  force,  again  she  sat,  enow 

and  spake  ^°  make  one  doubt  if  ever  the  great 

To  Tristrajii,  as  he  knelt  before  her,  Queen 

saying.  Have  yielded  him  her  love." 
"  O    hunter,    and    O    blower   of    the 

„      horn.  To  whom  Isolt, 

Harper,  and  thou  hast  been  a  rover,  "  Ah,    then,    fals»?    hunter    and    false 

t°0'  harper,  thou 

For,  ere  I  mated  with  my  shambling  Who  brakest  thro'  the  scruple  of  my 

kifiK.  bond, 
Ye   tv^ain   had    fallen   out   about   the  Calling  me  thy  white  hind,  and  say- 
bride  ing  to  me 
Of  one  — his  name  is  out  of  me—  That    Guinevere   had    sinn'd    against 

the  prize,  the  highest. 


364 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  RING 


,And  I — mi^yokcd  with  suth  a  want 

of  man  — 
That  I  could  hardly  sin  against  the 

lowest." 

He  answcr'd,  "  O  my  soul,  be  com- 
forted ! 
If   this   be  sweet,   to   sin   in   leaamg- 

strings. 
If  here  be  comfort,  and  if  ours  be  sin, 
Crown'd    warrant    had    we    tor    the 

crowning  sin 
That   made    us   happy:    but   how   ye 

greet  me  —  fear 
And   fault  and  doubt  —  no  word  of 

that  fond  tab  — 
T'  V  deep  heart-yearnings,  thy  sweet 

memories 
Of   Tristram    in    that    year   he    was 

away." 

And,    saddening    on    the    sudden, 
spake  Isolt, 

I  had  forgotten  dl  in  my  strong  joy 

To  see  thee  —  yearnings  ?  —  aye !  for, 
hour  by  hour, 

Here   in   the   never  ended   afternoon, 

O  sweeter  than  all  memories  of  thee. 

Deeper  than  any  yearnings  after  thee 

Seem'd    those    far-rolling,    westward- 
smiling  seas, 

Watch'd   from    this   tower.     Isolt   of 
Britain   dash'd 

Before     Isolt    of    Brittany    on    the 
strand. 

Would    that   have   chill'd   her  bride- 
kiss?     Wedded  her? 

Fought     in     her     father's     battles? 
wounded  there? 

The  King  was  all  fulfiU'd  with  grate- 
fulness. 

And  she,  my  namesake  of  the  hands, 
that  lieal'd 

Thy  hurt  and  heart  with  unguent  and 
caress  — 

Well  —  can   I   wish    her   any   huger 
wrong 


Than  having  known  thee?  her,  too, 

hast  thou  left 
To    pine   and    waste    in    those   sweet 

memories. 
O  were  I  not  my  Mark's,  by  whom 

all  men 
Are  noble,   I  should  hate  thee  more 

than  love." 

And  Tristram,   fondling  her  light 

hands,   replied, 
"Grace,  Queen,  for  being  loved:  she 

loved  me  well. 
Did  I  love  her?  the  name  at  least  I 

loved. 
Isolt? — I     fought    his    battles,    for 

Isolt 1 
The  night  was  dark;  tne  true  star  set. 

Isolt 1 
The  name  was  ruler  of  the  dark  — 

Isolt? 
Care  not  for  her!  patient,  and  prayer- 
ful, meek. 
Pale-blooded,  she  will  yield  herself  to 

God." 

And    Isolt    answer'd,    "  Yea,    and 
why  not  I  ? 

Mine  is  the  larger  need,  who  am  not 
meek, 

Pale-blooded,  prayerful.     Let  me  tell 
thee  now. 

Here    one    black,    mute    midsummer 
night  I  sat. 

Lonely,  but  musing  on  thee,  wonder- 
ing where. 

Murmuring  a  light  song  I  had  heard 
thee  sing. 

And  once  or  twice  I  spake  thy  name 
aloud. 

Then  flash'd  a  levin-brand;  and  neai 
mc  stood. 

In  fuming  sulphur  blue  and  green,  a 
fiend  — 

Mark's  way  to  steal  behind  one  in  the 
dark  — 

for  there  was  Mark :     '  He  has  wed- 
ded her,'  he  said, 


THE  LAST  TOURxNAMENT 


36s 


Not    said,    but    hiss'd    it:    the      i'lis 

crown  of  towers 
So  shook  to  such  a  roar  of  al    the 

sky, 
That  here  in   utter  dark   I  swoon'd 

auay, 
And  woke  again  in  utter  dark,  and 

cried, 
'  I  will  flee  hence  and  give  myself  to 

God  '— 
And  thou  wert  lying  in  thy  new  le- 

man's  arms." 

Then  Tristram,  ever  dallying  with 
her  hand, 
"  May  God  be  with  thee,  sweet,  when 

old  and  gray. 
And  past  desire !  "  a  saying  that  an- 
gered her. 
JVIaj    God    be    with    thee,    sweet, 
whtn  thou  art  old, 
And  sweet  no  more  to  me !  '     I  need 

Him  now. 
For  when  had  Lancelot  utter'd  aught 

so  gross 
Ev'n  to  the  swineherd's  malkin  in  the 

mast? 
The  greater  man,  the  greater  cour- 
tesy. 
Far  other  was  the  Tristram,  Arthur's 

knight! 
But  thou,  thro'  ever  harrying  thy  wild 

beasts  — 
Save  that  to  touch  a  harp,  tiit  with  a 

lance 
Becomes  thee  well  —  art  grown  wild 

beast  thyself. 
How  darest  thou,  if  lover,  push  me 

even 
In  fancy  from  thy  side,  and  set  me  far 
In  tlie  gray  distance,  half  a  life  away. 
Her  to  be  loved  no  more  ?     Unsay  it, 

unswear ! 
Flatter  me  rather,  seeing  me  so  weak, 
Broken  with  Mark  and  hate  and  soli- 
tude, 
Thy  marriage  and  mine  own,  that  I 
shou'     suc«. 


Lies  like  sweet  wines:  lie  to  me:   I 

believe. 
Will  ye  not  lie?  not  swear,  as  there 

ye  kneel, 
And  solemnly  m  when  ye  sware  to 

him. 
The   man   of  men,   our   King — My 

God,  the  power 
Was  once  in  vows  when  men  believed 

the  Kin^! 
They  lied  not  then,  u  ho  sware,  and 

thru'  their  vows 
'I  he      King      prevailing     ma^e      his 

realm :  —  I  say. 
Swear  to  nie  thou  wilt  love  me  ev'n 

when  old, 
Gray-hair'd,  and  past  desire,  and   in 

despair." 

Then  Tristram,  pacing  moodily  up 
and  down, 
"Vows!   did   you   keep   the  vcw   you 

made  to  Mark 
More   than    I   mine?     Lied,   say  ye? 

Nay,   but  learnt. 
The  vow  that  binds  too  strictly  snaps 

itself  — 
My  knighthood  taught  me  this  — aye, 

being  snapt  — 
We   run   inore   counter    to   the   soul 

thereof 
Than  had  we  never  sworn.     I  swear 

no  more. 
I  swore  to  the  great  King,  and  am 

forsworn. 
For   once  —  ev'n    to    the    height — I 

honor'd  him. 
'  Man,  is  he  man  at  all? '  methought, 

when  first 
I  rode  from  our  rough  Lyonnesse,  and 

beheld 
That  victor  of  the  Payan  throned  in 

hall  — 
His  hair,  a  sun  that  ray'd  from  off  a 

brow- 
Like   hill-snow   high    in    heaven,    ihe 
steel-blue  eyes. 


366 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


The  golden  beard  that  clothed  his  lips 

« ith  light  — 
Moreover,   that  weird   legend   of  his 

birth, 
With    Merlin's  mystic   babble   about 

his  end 
Amazed  me;  then,  his  foot  was  on  a 

stool 
Shaped  as  a  dragon;  he  seem'd  to  me 

no  man. 
But   Michael   trampling  Satan;  so   I 

sware. 
Being  amazed:   but   this  went  by  — 

The  vows! 
O  aye  —  the  wholesome  madness  of  an 

hour  — 
They    served    their    use,    their    time; 

for  every  knight 
Believed  himself  a  greater  than  him- 
self. 
And   every    foUowr  eyed   him   a^    a 

God ; 
Till  he,  being  lifted  up  bevond  him- 
self. 
Did  mightier  deeds  than  elscwisc  he 

had  done. 
And  so  the  realm  was  made ;  but  then 

their  vows  — 
First  mainly  thro'  that  sullying  of  our 

Queen  — 
Began  to  gall  the  knighthood,  asking 

whence 
Had   Arthur   right   to  bind   them   to 

himself? 
Dropt  down  from  heaven?  wash'd  up 

from  out  the  deep? 
They    fail'd    to   trace   iiim    thro'    the 

flesh  and  blood 
Of  our  old   kings:   whence   then?   a 

doubtful  lord 
To       bind       them       by       inviolable 

vows, 
Which     flesh     and     blool     perforce 

would  violate: 
For  feel  this  arm  of  mine  —  the  tide 

within 
Red    with    free    chase    and    heather- 
scented   air. 


Pulsing  full  man;  can  Arthur  make 

me  pure 
As  any   maiden   child?    lock   up   my 

tongue 
From   uttering   freely   what   I    freely 

hear  ? 
Bind  me  to  one?     Tlte  wide  world 

laughs  at  it. 
And   worldling  of   the   world   am    I, 

and  know 
The  ptarmigan   that  whitens  ere  his 

hour 
Woos  his  ow n  end ;  we  are  not  angels 

here 
Nor  shall  be :  vows  —  I  am  woodman 

of  the  woods. 
And    hear    the    garnet-headed    yaflfin- 

gale 
Mock   them:   my  soul,   we   love  but 

w  bile  we  may  ; 
And  therefore  is  my  love  so  large  for 

thee. 
Seeing    it    is    not    bounded    save    by 

love." 

Here  ending,  he  moved  toward  her, 

and  she  said, 
"  Good:  an  I  turn'd  away  my  love  for 

thee 
To   someone    thrice    as    courteous    as 

thyself  — 
For  courtesy  wins  woman  all  as  well 
As  valor  may,  but  he  that  closes  both 
Is    perfect,    he    is    Lancelot  —  taller 

indeed, 
Rosier  and  comelier,  thou  —  but  say 

I  loved 
This  knightl'est  of  all   knights,   and 

cast  thee  back 
Thine  own  small  saw,  '  We  love  but 

whil."  we  may,' 
Well,  then,  what  ajiswcr?" 

He  that  while  she  spake, 
Mindful  of  what  he  brought  to  adorn 

her  with, 
The  jewels,  had  let  one  finger  lightly 

touch 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT 


367 


The  warm  white  apple  of  her  throat, 
rcph'cd, 

"  Press  this  a  little  closer,  sweet,  un- 
til— 

Come,  I  am  hunger'd  and  half-an- 
ger'd  —  meat, 

Wine,  wine  —  and  I  will  love  thee 
to  the  death, 

And  out  beyond  into  the  dream  to 
come." 


Then   in    the   light's   last   glimmer 
Tristram  show'd 
And  swung  the  ruby  carcanet.     She 

cried, 
"  The  collar  of  some   Order,   which 

our  King 
Hath    newly    founded,    all    for   thee, 

my  soul, 
I-"or  thee,  to  \ield  thee  grar-  beyond 

thy  peers." 


So  then,  when  both  were  brought 

to  full  accord. 
She  rose,  and  set  before  him  all   he 

wiU'd  ; 
And    after    these   had    comforted    the 

blood 
With  meats  and  wines,  and  satiated 

their  hearts  — 
Now  talking  of  their  woodland  para- 
dise. 
The    deer,    the    dews,    the    fern,    the 

founts,  the  lawns; 
Now  mocking  at  tlie  much  ungainli- 

ness, 
And    craven    shifts,    and    long   crane 

legs  of  Mark  — 
Then  Tristram  laughing  caught  the 

harp,   and   sang : 


"Aye,    aye,    O    aye  —  the    winds 

that  bend  the  brier! 
A  star  in  heaven,  a  star  within  the 

mere! 
Aye,  aye,  O  aye  —  a  star  was  my  de- 
sire. 
And  one  was  far  apart,  and  one  was 

near: 
Aye,    aye,    O    aye  —  the   winds   that 

bow  the  grass! 
And  one  was  water  and  one  star  was 

fire. 
And  one  will  ever  shme  and  one  will 

pass. 
Aye,    aye,    O    aye  —  the   winds    that 

move   the  mere." 


"  Not  so,  my  Queen,"  he  said, 
"  but  the  red   fruit 

Grown  on  a  magic  oak-tree  in  mid- 
heaven, 

And  won  by  Tristram  as  a  tourney- 
prize, 

And  hither  brought  by  Tristram  for 
his  last 

Love-offering  and  peace-offering  unto 
thee." 

He  spoke,  he  turn'd,  then,  fling- 
ing round  her  neck, 

Claspt  it,  and  cried,  "  Thine  Order, 
O  my  Queen !  " 

But,  while  he  bow'd  to  kiss  the  jew- 
el'd   throat, 

Out  of  the  dark,  just  as  the  lips  had 
touch'd. 

Behind  him  rose  a  shadow  and  a 
shriek  — 

"  Mark's  way,"  said  Mark,  and  clove 
him  thro'  the  brain. 

That  night  came  Arthur  home,  and 

while  he  climb'd. 
All  in  a  death-dumb  autumn-dripping 

gloom. 
The  stairway  to  the  hall,  and  look'd 

and  saw 
The  great  Queen's  bower  was  dark, — 

about  his  feet 
A  voice  clung  sobbing  till   he  ques- 

tion'u  it, 
'■  What    art    thou  ? "    and    the   voice 

about  his  feet 


368 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Sent  up  an  answer,  sobbing,  "  I  am 

tliy  fool, 
And   I   shall   never  make  thee  smile 

again." 

GUINEVERE 

Queen    Guinevere    had    fled    ilie 

court,  and  sat 
There   in   the   holy   house   at   Ainu-s- 

bury 
VVeepinjr,  none  with  her  save  a  little 

maid, 
A  novice:  one  low  ligiit  betwixt  them 

burn'd 
Blurr'd  by  the  crecpinj^  mist,  for  all 

aboard, 
Beneath  a  moon  unseen  albeit  at  full, 
The  white  mist,  like  ?   face<loth  to 

the  face. 
Clung    to    the    dead    earth,    and    the 

land  was  still. 

For  hither  harl  she  fled,  her  cause 

of  flight 
Sir   Modred;   he   that   like   a  subtle 

beast 
Lay  couchant  with  his  eyes  upon  the 

throne, 
Ready   to  spring,   waiting  a  chance: 

for  this 
He  chill'd  the  popular  praises  of  the 

King 
With  silent  smiles  of  slow  disparage- 
ment ; 
And  tamper'd  with  the  Lords  of  the 

White   Horse, 
Heathen,  the  brood  by  Hengist  left; 

and  sought 
To    make    disruption    in    the    Tabl*" 

Round 
Of  Arthur,   and   to  splinter   it   into 

feuds 
Serving  his  traitorous  end ;   and   all 

his  aims 
Were   sharpen'd   by  stiong  hate  for 

Lancelot. 


l'"or  thus  it  chanced  one  morn  when 

all  the  court, 
Green-suited,    but   with    plumes   that 

luockd  the  may, 
Had   been,    their  wot,   a-maying  and 

return'd. 
That  Modred  still   in  green,  all  car 

and  eye, 
Climb'd  to  the  high  top  of  the  gar- 
den-wall 
To    spy    some    secret    scandal    if    he 

might. 
And  saw  the  Queen  who  sat  betwixt 

her  best 
Enid,    and    lissome    Vivien,    of    her 

court 
The  wiliest  and  the  worst ;  and  more 

than  this 
He  saw  not,  for  Sir  Lancelot  passing 

.  ^y 

Spied  where  he  couch'J,  and  as  the 
gardener's  hand 

Picks  from  the  colewort  a  green  cater- 
pillar. 

So  from  the  high  wall  and  the  flower- 
ing grove 

Of  grasses  Lancelot  pluck'd  him  by 
the  heel. 

And  cast  him  as  a  worm  upon  the 
way ; 

But  when  he  knew  the  Prince  tho' 
marr'd  with  dust, 

He,  reverencing  king's  blood  in  a 
bad  man. 

Made  such  excuses  as  he  might,  and 
these 

Full  knightly  without  scorn;  for  in 
those  days 

No  knight  of  Arthur's  noblest  dealt 
in  scorn ; 

But,  if  a  man  were  halt  or  hunch'd, 
in  him 

By  those  whom  God  had  made  fuU- 
limb'd  and  tall, 

Scorn  was  allow'd  as  part  of  his  de- 
fect, 

And  he  was  answer'd  softly  by  the 
King 


■^ 


GUINEVERE 


369 


And  all  his  Table.  So  Sir  Lancelot 
holp 

To  raise  ttie  Prince,  who  rising  t»  ice 
or  thrice 

Full  sharply  smote  his  knees,  ami 
smiled,   anil   uent: 

But,  ever  after,  the  small  violence 
lione 

Rankled  in  him  and  luffled  all  his 
-I'-'.rt, 

A;  tlie  sharp  wind  that  rutEes  all  day- 
Ion « 

A   little  bitter  pool   about  a  stone 

On  the  bare  coas: 


But  wlien  Sir  Lancelot  told 
This  matter  to  the  Queen,  at  first  she 

laugh'd 
Lightly,  to  think  of  Modred's  dustv 

fall. 
Then   shudder'd   as   the   village   wife 

«ho  cries 
"  I  shudder,  some  one  steps  across  my 

grave ;  " 
Then  laugh'd  again,  but  faintlier,  for 

indeed 
She  half-foresaw   that  he,  the  subtle 

beast. 
Would  track  her  guilt  until  he  found, 

and  hers 
\\''ould    be   for  evermore  a  name   of 

scorn. 
Henceforward  rarely  could  she  front 

in  hall. 
Or  elsewhere,  Modred's  narrow  foxy 

face, 
Heart-hiding  smile,  and  gray  persist- 
ent eye: 
Henceforward   too,   the   Powers   that 

tend  the  soul, 
To  help  it  from,  the  death  that  cannot 

die. 
And  save  it  even  in  extremes,  began 
To   vex    and    plague    her.     Many   a 

time  for  hours, 
Beside   the   piaci '    breathings   of   the 
King, 


In  the  dead  night,   grim  faces  came 

and  went 
Before     her,     or     <     vague    spiritual 

fear  — 
Like  to  some  doubtful  noise  of  creak- 
ing doors. 
Heard  by  the  watcher  in  a  haunted 

house, 
That  keeps  the  rust  of  murder  on  the 

walls  — 
Held  her  awake:  or  if  she  slept  she 

dream'd 
An  awful  dream;  for  then  she  seem'd 

to  stand 
On  some  vast  plain  before  a  setting 

sun, 
And  from  the  sun  there  swiftly  made 

at  her 
A  ghastly  something,  and  its  shadow 

flew 
Before  it,  till  it  touch'd  her,  and  she 

turn'd  — 
When  lo!  her  own,   that  broadening 

from  her  feet. 
And    blackening,    swallow'd    all    the 

land,  and  in  it 
Far  cities  burnt,  and  with  a  cry  she 

woke. 
And  all  this  trouble  did  not  pass  but 

grew; 
Till  ev'n  the  clear  face  of  the  guileless 

King, 
And  trustful  courtesies  of  household 

life, 
Became  her  bane;  and  at  the  last  she 

said, 
"  O  Lancelot,  get  thee  hence  to  thine 

own  land. 
For    if    thou    tarry    we    shall    meet 

again. 
And    if    we    meet    again,    some    evil 

chance 
Will    make    the   smoldering   scandal 

break  and  blaze 
Before  the  people,  and  our  lord  the 

King." 
And  Lancelot  ever  promised,  but  re- 
maiu'd, 


370 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Anil  still  they  met  aiul  met.     Again 
she  said, 

"  O  Lancelot,  if  thou  love  ine  K''t  thee 
hence." 

And    then    tiiey   were   aj^reed    upon   a 
ni^ht 

(WHien  the  good  Kin^  should  not  be 
there)  to  meet 

And  part  for  ever.     \'ivien,  lurking, 
heard. 

She    told    Sir    Mod  red.      P;Lssion-pale 
they  rnet 

And   greeted.     Hands  in  hands,  and 
eye  to  eye 

Low  on  the  border  of  her  couch  they 
sat 

Stainmering     and     staring.     It     was 
their    last    hour, 

A  madness  of  farewells.     And  Mod- 
red  brought 

His  creatures  to  the  basement  of  the 
tower 

For  testimony;  and   cr\ing  with    full 
voice 

"Traitor,   come  out,   )C  are  trapt  at 
hust,"  aroused 

Lancelot,  who  rushing  outward  lion- 
like 

Leapt  on  him,  and  hurl'd  him  head- 
long, and  he  fell 

Stunn'd,    and    his  creatures   took   and 
bare   him  off. 

And  all  was  still:  then  she,  "  Tlie  end 
is  come. 

And  I  am  shamed  for  ever;"  and  he 
said, 

"Mine   be   the  shame;   mine  \v  as  the 
sin  :  but  rise. 

And    fly    to   my    strong   castle    over- 
seas: 

There  will    I    hide   thee,   till   my   life 
shall   end, 

There  hold  thee  with  my  life  against 

the  world." 
She   answer'd,   "  Lancelot,   wilt   thou 

hold   me  so? 
Nay,    friend,    for   we   have  taken   our 
farewells. 


Would   (iod    that   thou   couldst  hide 

me  trom  myself! 
Aline   is  the   shame,    for   I   was  wife, 

and  thou 
Lnwedded:  yet  rise  now,  and  let  us 

fly, 
For  I  w  ill  draw  me  into  sanctuary. 
And    bide    my    doom."     So    Lancelot 

got  her  horse, 
Set  her  thereon,  and  mounted  on  his 

oun. 
And    tlien    they    rode    to    the    divided 

way. 
There  kiss'd,  and  parted  weeping:  for 

he  past, 
Love-loyal   to   the   least   wish    of   the 

Queen, 
Back  to  his  land;  but  she  to  Almcs- 

bury 
Fled    all    night    long   by    glimmering 

waste  and  weald. 
And   heard    the   Spirits  of   the   waste 

and  weald 
Moan    as    she    Hed,    or    thought    she 

heard  them  moan : 
And     in    herself    she    moan'd    "  Too 

late,  too  la'.j!  " 
Till   in   the   cold   wind   that   foreruns 

the  morn, 
A   blot  in   heaven,   the  Raven,   flying 

high, 
Croak'd,  and  she  thought,  "  He  spies 

a  field  of  death  ; 
For  now  the  Heathen  of  the  North- 
ern Sea, 
Lured  by  the  crimes  and   frailties  of 

the  court, 
Begin  to  slay  the  folk,  and  spoil  the 

land." 

And  when  she  came  to  Almesv-'iry 
she  spake 

There  to  the  nuns,  and  said,  "  Mine 
enemies 

Pursue  me,  but.  O  pe.aceful  Sister- 
hood, 

Receive,  and  \'ield  me  sanctuary,  nor 
ask 


GUINEVERE 


371 


Her  name  to  whom  ye  yield   it,  till     Whereat  full  willingly  sang  the  little 

litr  time  maid. 

To  tell  you:"  and  her  beauty,  grace 


and  power, 
Wrought  as  a  cliarni  upon  them,  and 

they  spared 
'I'o  aslc  it. 


"  Late,  late,  so  late!  and  dark  the 

night  and  chill! 
Late,  late,  so  late!  but  we  can  'nter 

still. 
Too   late,   too   late!  ye  cannot  enter 

now. 

"  No  light  had  we:  for  that  ,ve  do 
repent ; 


So  the  stately  Queen  abode 
For  many  a  week,  unknown,  among 

the  nuns; 
iNor  with  them  mix'd,   nor  told   her     And    learning    this,    the    bridegroom 

name,   nor  souglit,  vvill  relent. 

Wrapt  in  her  grief,  for  housel  or  fur     "loo   late,   too  late!   ye  cannot  enter 

shrift,  now. 

Hut   communed    only    v\  ith    the    litile 

maid, 
Who    pleased    her    with    1    babbling 

heedlessness 
Which  often  lured  her  from  herself; 

but  now, 
This    night,    a    rumor    wildly    blown 

about 
Came,  that  Sir  Modred  had  usurp'd 

the  realm, 
And   leagued   him   with   tin-   heathen, 

wln'le  the  King 
Was  waging  war  on  Lancelot:  then 

she  thought, 
"  With   what  a  hate   the  people   and 

the  King 
Must    hate    me,"    and    bow'd    down 

upon  her  hands 
Silent,    until    the    little    maid,    who 

brook'd 
No  silence,  brake  it,  uttering  "Late! 

so  late! 
What  hour,    I   wonder,   now?"   and 

when  she  drew 
No  answer,  by  and  by  began  to  hum 
An    air    the    nuns    had    taught    her; 

"  Late,  so  late!  " 
Which   when   she   heard,   the   Queen 

look'd  up,  and  said, 
"  (")  maiden,  if  indeed  ve  list  to  sing. 


"  No  light:  so  late!  and  dark  and 

chill  the  night! 
(J   let   us   in,   that  we  may  find   the 

light! 
Too  late,  too  late:  ye  cannot  enter 

now. 

"  Have  we  not  heard  the  bride- 
groom is  so  sweet  ? 

O  let  us  in,  tho'  late,  to  kiss  his  feet ! 

No,  no,  too  late!  ye  cannot  enter 
now." 

So  sang  the  novice,  while  full  pas- 
sionately. 

Her  head  upon  her  hands,  remember- 
ing 

Her  thought  when  first  she  came, 
wept  the  sad  Queen. 

Then  said  the  little  novice  prcttling 
to  her, 

"  O  pray  you,  noble  lady,  weep  no 
more ; 
But  let  my  wo'ds,  the  words  of  one  so 

small, 
Who  knowing  nothing  knows  but  to 
nbpv, 


Sing,  and  unbind  my  heart  that  1  may     And    if    I    do    not    there    is   penance 
weep."  given  — 


372 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Comfort  your  serious;   fur   they   do 

not  flow 
From  evil  done;  ri^lit  surf  am   I  of 

that, 
Who  see  your  tender  grace  and  statc- 

liness. 
But  wei^jh  your  sorrows  w  ith  our  lord 

the  K.int;'s, 
And    \  cighini;    find    them    less;    for 

(joiie  is  he 
To  wage  grim  war  against  Sir  Lance- 
lot there, 
Round    that   strong  castle   where   he 

holds  the  Queen  ; 
And  Modrcd  whom  he  left  in  charge 

of  all, 
The    traitor  —  Ah    sweet    lady,    the 

King's  grief 
For  his  o\\  n  self,  and  his  own  Queen, 

and  realm, 
Must  needs  be  thrice  as  great  as  any 

of  ours. 
For  me,  I  thank  the  saints,  I  am  not 

great. 
For  if  there  ever  come  a  grief  to  me 
I   cry   my  cry   in   silence,    and   have 

done. 
None   knows  it,   and   my   tears  have 

brought  me  good : 
But  even  were  the  griefs  of  little  ones 
As  great  as  those  of  ;^reat  ones,  y^t 

this  grief 
Is  added  to  the  griefs  the  great  must 

bear. 
That  howsoever  much  they  may  de- 
sire 
Silence,    they   cannot  weep   behind   a 

cloud : 
As  even  here  they  talk  at  Almesbury 
About  the  good  King  and  his  wicked 

Queen, 
And  were  I  such  a  King  with  such  a 

Queen, 
Well  mi<'!it  I  wish  to  veil  her  wicked- 
ness, 
But  were  I  such  a  King,  it  could  not 

be." 


Then  to  her  own  sad  heart  mut- 
ter'd  tlie  Queen, 

"  Will  the  child  kill  me  with  her  in- 
nocent talk?  " 

But  openly  she  answer'd,  "  Must  not 

I. 

If  this  false  traitor  have  displaced  his 

lor.^, 
Grieve  with  the  common  grief  of  all 

tlie  realm?  " 

"  Yea,"  said  the  maid,  "  this  is  all 
woman's  grief. 

That  shf  is  woman,  whose  disloyal 
life 

Hath  wrought  confusioti  in  the  Table 
Round 

Which  good  King  Arthur  founded, 
years  ago, 

With  signs  and  miracles  and  wond- 
ers, there 

At  Camelot,  ere  the  coming  of  the 
Queen." 

Then    thought   the   Queen    within 

herself  again, 

"  '  Vill  the  child  kill  me  with  her  fool- 
ish prate?  " 

But  openly  she  spake  and  said  to 
her, 

"  O  little  maid,  shut  ir  '  •  nunnery 
\\  alls. 

What  canst  thou  know  of  F  "ng  and 
Tables  Round, 

Or  what  of  signs  and  wonde  s,  but 
the  signs 

And  simple  miracles  of  thy  nun- 
nery?" 

To  whom  the  little  novice  garru- 
lously, 

"Yea,  but  I  know:  the  land  was  full 
of  signs 

And  wonders  ere  the  coming  of  the 
Queen. 

So  said  my  father,  and  himself  was 
knight 


GUINEVERE  373 

Of  the  great  Table  —  at  the  founding  Flying,  for  all  the  land  was  full  of 

And    rode    thereto    from    Lyonnesse,  And  when  at  last  he  came  to  Camc- 

and  he  said  i^t                                         v^^nc 

That  as  he  rode,  an  hour  or       .ybe  A    wreath   of   airy   dancers   hand-in- 

,.      ''f'"  hand 

Alter  the  sunset,  down  the  coast,  he  Swunjj  round  the  lighted  lantern  of 

^,        "*"^''"  the  hall ; 

btran^e    music,    and    he   paused,   and  And  in  the  hall  itself  was  such  a  feast 

All    V"'"'"f-;'"'7'                ^  ,  As  nc-vcr  man  had  drcam'd;  for  every 

All  down  the  lonely  coast  cf  Lyon-  knight 


nesse. 
Each    u  ith    a    beacon-star    upon    his 

head. 
And  with  a  wild  sea-light  about  his 

feet, 
He  saw  them  —  headland  after  head- 
land flame 
Far   on    into   the   rich   heart   of   the 

west : 
And    in    the    light    the    white    mer- 

maiden  swam, 
And  strong  man-breasted  things  stood 

from  the  scr, 
And   sent   a   deep   sea-voice   thro'   all 

the  land, 
To   which   the   little   elves  of  chasm 

and  cleft 
Made  answer,  sounding  like  a  distant 

horn. 
So  said  my  father  —  yea,  and  further- 
more, 
Next  morning,  while  he  past  the  dim- 
lit  woods. 
Himself  beheld  three  spirits  mad  with 

joy 
Come  dashing  down  on  a  tali  wayside 
fiowcr, 


Had   uhatsfKver  meat  he  long'd  for 

served 
By    hands    unseen ;    and    even    as    he 

said 
Down    in    the   cellars   merry   bloated 

things 
Shoulder'd   the  spigot,   straddling  on 

the   butts 
While   the   w  inc   ran :  so  glad   were 

spirits  and  men 
Before     the    coming    of    the    sinful 

Queen." 

Then  spake  the  Queen  and  some- 
what bitterly, 

"Were  they  so  glad?  ill  prophets 
were  they  all. 

Spirits  and  men:  could  none  of  them 
foresee, 

Not  even  thy  wise  father  with  his 
signs 

And  wcnders,  what  has  fall'n  upon 
the  realm  ?  " 

To  whom  the  novice  garrulously 
again. 


That  shook  beneath  them,  as  the  thi.-  "  Yea,  one,  a  bard ;  of  whom  my  fa- 
■i.n.        l^  t'^"  said, 

\Vhen  three  gray  Imnets  wrangle  for  Full  manv  a  noble  war-song  nad  he 
the  seed:  sung 

And  still   at  evenings  on   before  his  Ev'n   in  the  presence  of  an   enemy's 
horse  flgpf  ■  •' 

The    flickering    fairy-circle    wheel'd  Between  'the  steep  cliff  and  the  tom- 

and  broke  (n^  ^.g^.^  . 

Flying,  and  link  d  again,  and  wheel'd  And   many  a  mvstic  lay  of  life  and 

and  broke  d?ath' 


374 


IDVl.LS  OF  THE  KING 


Had  chanted  on  tht-  sinoLy  inountain- 

tops, 
VVlicn   round  him  bent  the  spirits  of 

the  hills 
With  all  fhfir  dewy  hair  hhiun  back 

like  tlamc: 
So  saiil   my   father  —  .itid   that  night 

the  hard 
Sang  Arthur's  jjlorious  wars,  and  sanj; 

the  King 
As    vM'll-tiigh    more    than    man,    and 

rail'd    at   those 
Who  call'd  him  the  false  son  of  Gor- 

lois: 
For    there    was    no    man    knew     from 

w  hem  e  he  came  ; 
But    atter     tempest,     u  hen     the    long 

wave  broke 
All    down    the    thundering    shores    of 

Hiide  and  Hos, 
There  (  ame  a  day  as  still   as  heaven, 

and  then 
They   found  a  naked  child   upon  tlie 

sands 
Of    dark    'I'intagil    hy    the    Cornish 

sea ; 
And  that  was  Arthur;  and  they  fos- 

ter'd  him 
Till     he     by    miracle    was    approved 

King: 
And  that  his  grave  should  be  a  m\s- 

tcry 
From    all    men,    like    l-.is    birtli;    and 

could  he  (ind 
A  wninan  in  her  uomanliood  as  great 
As  he  was  in   his  manhood,   then,   he 

sang. 
The     twain     toiiether     well      might 

change  the  world. 
But  even    in   the   middle   of   his  song 
He   faltcr'd,   and    his   hand    fell   from 

the  harp, 
And   pale   he  turn'd,   and    reelM,   and 

would  ha\e  falFn, 
Hut    that    they    sta>'d    him    up;    nor 

would  he  tell 
His  vision;  but  what  doubt   that  he 

foresaw 


'1  his  evil  work  of  Lancelot  and  the 
(Jueen?  " 

'I'hen  thought  the  Queen,  "  Ivo! 
they  liave  set  her  on. 

Our  simple-seeming  .Abbess  and  her 
nuns. 

To  play  upon  me,"  and  bow 'd  her 
h<ad   nor  spake. 

Whereat  the  novice  crying,  with 
chusp'd  hands, 

Shame  on  her  own  garrulit>  g,i:ru- 
iously. 

Said  the  good  nuns  would  check  hei 
gadding  tongue 

Full  often,  "and,  sweet  lady,  if  I 
seem 

To  vex  ;ui  ear  too  sad  to  listen  to 
me, 

I'nmannerly,  with  prattling  atid  the 
tales 

Which  my  good  father  told  me,  check 
me  too 

Nor  let  '  e  shame  my  father's  mem- 
ory, one 

Of  noblest  manners,  tlio'  himself 
wouhi  say 

Sir  Lancelot  had  the  noblest;  and  he 
died, 

Kill'd  in  a  tilt,  c<.me  next,  fi\e  sum- 
mers back, 

And  left  me;  but  of  others  who  re- 
main, 

And  of  the  two  first-famed  for  cour- 
tesy — 

And  pray  you  check  me  if  I  ask 
amiss  — 

But  pray  you,  which  had  noblest, 
while  you  moved 

Among  them,  Lancelot  or  our  lord 
the  King?  " 

Tlien  the  pale  Queen  look'd  up  and 

answer'd   her, 
"  Sir    Lancelot,    as    became    a    noble 

knight, 
Was   gracious  to  all    ladies,  and   the 

same 


GUINKVERE 


In    oprn    battle    or    the    tiltinu-licld 
lorbdre  hi',  uwn  advantage,  and  the 

In   open    battle  or  the  tiltint;(ifla 
forbore  his  own  advantaijc,  and  these 
two 

Were  the  most  nobly-manncr'd  men 

<.t   all; 
For   manners   arc   not    idle,    but    the 

fruit 
Of  loyal  nature,  and  of  noble  mind." 

^  ea,"  said  the  maid,  "  be  manners 

such  fair  fruit  ? 
Then     Lancelot's    needs    niu<t    be    a 

thousarul-fdld 
I.f^s  noble,  beint;,  as  all  rumor  runs, 
I  he   most   disloyal   i    end    in   all   the 

world." 

To  which  a  mournful  answer  made 

the  Queen  : 
"  O  closed  about  by  narrowing,'  nun- 
nery-walk, 
What  knowest  thou  of  the  world,  and 

all  its  li>:;hts 
And  sh.idous,  all  the  wealth  and  all 

the  woe  ? 
If    ever    Lancelot,    that    most    noble 

knif^ht, 
Were    for   one   hour   less    noble    than 

himself. 
Pray  for_  him  that  he  scape  the  doom 

of  (ire. 
And  ueep  for  her  who  drew  him  to 

his  doom." 

"  Yea,"  said   the  liftlc  novice,   "  I 

pray  for  both ; 
But  I  should  all  as  soon  believe  that 

his. 
Sir   Lancelot's,   were  as  noble  as  the 

King's, 
As   I   could   think,  sweet   lady,  yours 

would  be 
Such  as  the\  are,  were  you  the  sinful 

Queen." 


37S 


So  she,  like  mar.y  another  babbler, 

hurt 
Whom  she  would  soothe,  and  harm'd 

uhere  she  would  heal  ; 
I'or  here  a  sudden  Hush  ot  wrathful 

heat 
Fired  all  the  pale  face  of  the  Queen, 

«  ho  cried, 
"  Such  as  thou  art  be  never  maiden 

more 
lor  ever!   thou  their  trnd,  set  on  to 

pla^iic 
And  play  upon,  and  harry  me,  petty 

spy 
And  traitress."     When  that  storm  of 

aiij.'er   brake 
From   (juinevere,  ue,hasi  the  maiden 

rose. 
White  as  her  veil,  and  stood   before 

the   Queen 
As    tremulously    as    foam    upon    the 

beach 
Stands  in  a  wind,  ready  to  break  and 

fly. 

And    u-lien    the    Queen    had    added 
"  (let  thee  hence," 

Fled   frij,'hted.     Then  that  other  left 
alone 

Sigh'd,    and    began    to    gather    heart 
again. 

Saying  in  herself,  "  The  simple,  fear- 
ful  child 

Meant  nothing,  but  my  own  too-fear- 
ful g\iilt. 

Simpler  than  any  child,  betrays  itself. 

But    help    me,    heaven,    for   surely    I 
repent. 

tor  what   is  true  repentance  but  in 
thought  — 

Not  ev'n  in  inmost  thought  to  think 
again 

The  sins  that  made  the  past  so  pleas- 
ant to  us: 

And    1  have  sworn  never  to  see  him 
more, 

1  o  see  hiiii   more." 


And   ev'n   in   saying  this, 


376 


IDVI.I.S  OF    rnK  KING 


Her    memory    from   iil,l    habit   tit    the 

iiiiiul 
Went  slippin,;  back  vipon  the  t;.)lilrn 

ila>s 
In    vshich    she    saw    hmi    tlr^t,    uhen 

l.aiuelot  came, 
Reputi-il  tnc  bi-it  kiii^;ht  aii.i  'goodliest 

m;ui, 
Ajiibassailor,  to  lead   her  to  hi>  Inrd 
Arthur,   anJ   led    lur    toitli,  and    tar 

ahead 
Of  hi->  and  her  retinue  moving;,  they, 
Rapt   in  sweet  talk  or  livel>,  all  of 

love 
And  -.port  and  lilts  and  pleasure  (tor 

the  tune 
Was  may  time,  and  as  yet  no  sin  uas 

dream'd), 
Ro<ie  under  t;r<JVes  that  look'd  a  par- 
adise 
Of   blossom,   over  sheets   of   hyacinth 
Tiiat  seeni'd   the   heavens   upbreakirij; 

thro'   the  earth. 
And  on  from  hill   to  hill,  and  every 

day 
Heheld  at  noon  in  sonic  delicious  dale 
The   silk    pavdions   of    Km^;   Arthur 

raised 
For  brief  repast  or  afternocjn   repose 
Hy     couriers     none     before;    and     on 

a^am. 
Till  yet  once  more  ere  set  of  sun  they 

saw 
The  Drapm  of  the  <;reat  l'endra^;on- 

ship, 
That   crown'd   state    pavilion   of   the 

King, 
Blaze  by  the  rushing  brook  or  silent 
well. 

But  when  the  Queen  immersed  in 
such  a  .ranee. 

And  moving  thro'  the  past  uncon- 
sciously, 

Came  to  that  p'-'-t  vhcre  first  she 
saw  the  King 

Ride  tow  ard  her  from  tlic  city,  sigh'd 
to  find 


IKr   joi'rney    done,    glanced   at   him, 

tliou;;lit  hiin  cold, 
llinh,   self  contain'd,   and    pa^Monlivs, 

not  like  him, 
"  Not  like  my  Lancelot" — while  she 

blooded   thui 
And  urew   h.ilt  guilty  in  her  thounht> 

again, 
'1  here  rode  an  armed   warrior  to  the 

doors. 
A  murmuring  whisper  thro'  the  nun- 

nc!>    rail, 
i'hen  on  a  sudden  a  cr> ,  "  1  he  Kiiij;." 

She  s;it 
Stiff-stricken,     listening;     hui     v\hen 

armed  teet 
Thro'  the  long  galUrs   from  the  outer 

doors 
K;uig  coming,  prone  from  oti  lur  >eat 

she   fell. 
And    grovel'd   with   her   face   against 

the   floor: 
There  \  ith   her  niilkwhite  arnw  and 

shadowy  hair 
She   made    her    face   a   darkne--    trtjiii 

the  King: 
And  in  the  darknes^  heard  his  armed 

feet 
I'ause  by  her;  then  came  silence,  then 

a  voice, 
Monotonous     and     hollow     like     a 

^.jliost's 
Denouncing      judgment,      but      tho' 

changed,  the  King's: 


"  I, lest  thou  here  so  low ,  the  child 

of  one 
I    honor'd,    happy,    dead    before    thy 

shame  ? 
Well   is   it   that  no  child   is  born   of 

thee. 
The  children  born  of  thee  are  sword 

and  (ire, 
Red    ruin,    and    the    breaking    up    of 

laws, 
The  craft  of  kindred  and  the  Godless 

hosts 


GUINKVhRE 


377 


Of  hrathri)  swarming  o'er  the  iS'ortli- 

crii   Sra ; 
Whom  1,  whilr  yet  Sir  l.aiKciot,  my 

ri^'ht   arm, 
1  he   iiut;hncNt   of   my   itm>;hts,   ahoiic 

with   iiir, 
Have  rvfr)u  hi-ic   about   t'l's   laiiil   of 

Chiist 
In   twi'lvr  urcat  battits  ruining  over- 
thrown. 
And  knowcst  tliou  new    from  vvhfiuc 

I  lonie  —  f loni   limi, 
From    w.i^in;;    bittir    uar    with    him: 

and   he, 
lliat    (lid    not    ^hiin    to   smite    me    in 

Worse  wa\', 
Had  yet  that  ^racr  of  courtrsy  in  him 

left, 
He   spared    to    lift    his    hand    against 

the  Kin^ 
Who  made  him  knljjht:  but  many  a 

itni^ht  was  slain  ; 
And  many  more,  ami  all  bis  kith  and 

kin 
Clave  to  him,   and  abcxie   in   iii     own 

land. 
And  many  more  when  Mod  "d  raised 

revolt, 
Fort^etful    of    their   troth    and    fealt\-, 

clave 
To    Mod  red,    and    a    remnant    stays 

with  me. 
And   of   tliis   remnant   will    I   leave  a 

part. 
True    men    who    love    me    still,    for 

whom   I    live. 
To  t;uard  thee  in  the  wild  hour  com- 
ing on. 
Lest  but  a  hair  of  this  low  head   be 

harm'd. 
Fear  not:  thou  sbalt  be  j:;uarded   till 

my  death. 
Howbeit   1    know,   if  ancient   prof  !ic- 

cies 
Have  err'd  not,  that  I  march  to  meet 

m\-   (io(,m. 
Thou  hast  not  made  my  life  so  sweet 
to  me. 


1  iiat  1  the  KinK  should  ^;rl•.lll)   care 

to    live  ; 
I'or   thou    ''..^.^t   spoilt   tlie   purpose   ot 

iiiv   lite. 
lie.ir  with  me  for  the  hist  time  while 

I  show, 
l.v'n  for  thy  sake,  the  sin  which  thou 

hast  sinn'd. 
For    when    the   Roman    left    us,    and 

their   law 
Relax'd    its    hold    upon    us,    and    the 

\\  a\  s 
Were    fiil'd    with     rapine,    here    and 

tiiere   a   deed 
Of   prowess  done   redress'd   h   random 

w  ronj;. 
Hut  1  wa.-.  first  of  all  the  kit^s  who 

(I  rew 
The  ktiii;hthof)(l-errant  of  this  realm 

and  all 
The  lealins  together  umler  me,  their 

Head, 
In     that    fair    Order    of    i-iy    Table 

Round, 
A    j;lorious    company,    tlie    Hower    of 

men. 
To    s(r\e    as    model    for    the    nii^jhty 

world 
And  be  the  fair  be;;inninK  of  a  time. 
I  made  them  lay  their  hands  in  mine 

and  swear 
To     revir.nce    the    Kinj;,    as    if    he 

wi  re 
I  heir  conscienrr.  and  their  conscience 

as  their   kinj:, 
To  break  the  Heathen  and  uphold  the 

Christ, 
Id    ride    abroad     redressing    human 

wrnnixs. 
To  speak  no  slander,  no,  nor  listen  to 

it, 
lo    honor    his    own    word    as    if    his 

Cjod's, 
To  lead  sweet  lives  in  purest  chastity, 
1  o   love   one   maiden   onl\     cleave   to 

her. 
Anil   w(   ship   her  by  years  of   noble 
deeds. 


378 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


Until    they   won   her ;   for    indeed    I 

knew 
Of    no    more    subtle    master    under 

heaven 
Than    is    the   maiden    passion    for   a 

maid, 
Not  only  to  keep  down  the  base  in 

man, 
But  teach  high  thought,  and  amiable 

words 
And    courtliness,    and    the    desire    of 

fame, 
^  '\  love  of  truth,  :uid  all  that  makes 

a  man. 
And  all  this  throve  before  I  wedded 

thee, 
Believing,  '  lo  mine  helpmate,  one  to 

feel 
Mv    purpose    and    rejoicing    in    my 

joy.' 
Then    came    thy    shameful    sin    with 

Lancelot ; 
Then  came  the  sin  of  Tristram  and 

Isolt, 
Then    others,    following    these    my 

mightiest  knights, 
And  drawing  foul  ensample  from  fair 

names, 
Sinn'd  also,  till  the  loathsome  oppo- 
site 
Of   all    my   heart    had    destined    did 

obtain, 
And  all  thro'  thee!  so  that  this  life 

of  mine 
I    guard    as    God's    high    gift    from 

scathe  and  wrong, 
Not  greatly  care  ;o  lose;  but  rather 

think 
How   sad  it  were  for  Arthur,  should 

he  live. 
To  sit   once  more  within   his  lonely 

hall, 
And  miss  the  wonted  number  of  my 

'•nights, 
And  miss  to  hear  high  talk  of  noble 

deeds 
hi    in    the    golden    days    before    thy 

sin. 


For  which  of  us,  who  might  be  left, 

could  speak 
Of  the  pure  heart,  nor  seem  to  glance 

at  thee  ? 
And  in  thy  bowers  of  Camelot  or  of 

Usk 
Thy  shadow  still  would   glide  from 

room  to  room, 
And  I  should  evermore  be  vext  with 

thee 
In  hanging  rolie  or  vacant  ornament. 
Or   ghostly    footfall    echoing   on    the 

stair. 
For  think  not,  tho'  thou  wouldst  not 

love  thy  lord, 
Tiiy  lord  hast  wholly  lost  his  love  for 

thee, 
I    am    not    made    of    so    slight    ele- 
ments, 
^'et  must  I  leave  thee,  woman,  to  thy 

shan.". 
I  hold  that  man  the  worst  of  p-'^lic 

foes 
Who  either  for  his  own  or  children's 

sake. 
To  save  his  blood  from  scandal,  lets 

the  wife 
\\'hom  he  knows  false,  abide  and  rule 

the  house : 
For  being  thro'  his  cowardice  allow'J 
Her    station,    taken    everj'where    for 

pure, 
She  like  a  new  disease,  unknown   to 

men, 
Creeps,    no    precaution    used,    among 

the  crowd, 
Makes  wicked  lightnings  of  her  eyes, 

and  saps 
The   fealty  of  our  friends,  and  stirs 

the    pulse 
With   devil's  leaps,  and   poisons  half 

the  young. 
Worst  of  the  worst  were  that  man  he 

that    reigns! 
Better   the  King's  waste   hearth   and 

aching  heart 
Than   thou   reseated   in   thy  place  of 

light, 


GUINEVERE 


The  mockerj'  of  my  people,  and  their 
bane." 


379 


He  paused,  and  in  the  pause  she 
crept  an  inch 

Nearer,  and  laid  her  hands  about  his 
feet. 

Far  off  a  solitary  trumpet  blew. 

Then  waiting  by  the  doors  the  war- 
horse   neigh'd 

As  at  a  friend's  voice,  and  he  spake 
again : 

"  Yet   think    not   that    I    come   to 
urge   thy   crimes, 
I  did  not  come  to  curse  thee,  Guine- 
vere, 
I,  whose  vast  pit>'  almost  makes  me 

die 
To  see  thee,  laying  there  thy  golden 

head, 
My  pride  in  happier  summers,  at  mv 

feet. 
The  wrath  which  forced  my  thoughts 

on  that  fierce  law. 
The  doom  of  treason  and  the  flaming 

death 
(When    first    I    learnt    thee    hidden 

here),  is  past. 
The  pang  —  which  while  I   weigh'd 

thy  heart  with  one 
Too  wholly  true  to  dream  untruth  in 

thee. 
Made  my  tears  burn  —  is  also  past  — 

in  part. 
And    all    is   past,    the   sin    is   sinn'd, 

and  I, 
Lo!  I  forgive  thee,  as  Eternal  God 
Forgives:  do  thou  for  thine  own  soul 

the  rest. 
But  how  to  take  last  leave  of  all  I 

loved  ? 
O  golden  hair,  with  which  I  used  to 
play 

Not    knowing!     O     imperial-molded 

form, 
And    beauty   such    as    never   woman 

wore, 


Until  it  came  a  kingdom's  curse  with 
thee  — 

I  cannot  touch  thy  lips,  they  are  not 

mine. 
But  Lancelot's:  nay,  they  never  were 

the  King's. 
I  cannot  take  thy  hand;  that  too  is 

flesh. 
And  in  the  flesh  thou  hast  sinn'd ;  and 

mine  own  flesh. 
Here  looking  down  on  thine  polluted, 

cries 
'I    loathe    thee:'    yet    not    less,    O 

Guinevere, 
For  I  was  ever  virgin  save  for  thee, 
iVIy  love  thro'  flesh  hath  wrought  into 

my  life 

So  far,  that  my  doom  is,  I  love  thee 
still. 

Let  no   man   dream  but   that  I   love 

thee  still. 
Perchance,    and    so    thou    purifv'    thy 

soul. 
And  so  thou  lean  on  our  fair  father 

Christ, 
Hereafter  in  that  world  where  all  are 

pure 
We  two  may  merr  before  high  God, 

and  thou 
Wilt    spring    to   me,    and    claim    me 

thine,  and  know 
I  am  thine  husband  —  not  a  smaller 

soul. 
Nor    Lancelot,    nor   another.     Leave 

me  that, 
I   charge   thee,   my   last  hope.     Now 

must  I  hence. 
Thro'    the    thick    night    I    hear    the 

trumpet  blow: 
They  summon  me  their  King  to  lead 

mine  hosts 
Far  down  to  that  great  battle  In  tlie 

west, 
WTiere  I  must  strike  against  the  man 

they  call 
My   sister's   son  —  no   kin    of   mine, 
who  leagues 


38o 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


With  Ix)rds  of  the  White  Horse, 
heathen,  and  kniphts, 

Traitors  —  and  strike  liim  dead,  aiid 
meet  niystlf 

Death,  or  I  know  not  wliat  mysteri- 
ous doom. 

And  thou  remaining;  here  wilt  learn 
the  event ; 

But  hither  shall  I  never  come  a^ain, 

Never  lie  by  thy  side;  see  thee  no 
more  — 

Farewell 

And  V*  le  she  grovel'd  at  his  feet, 
She    ftl'.     he    Kinj^'s    breath    wander 

o'er  her  neck, 
And   in  the  darkness  o'er  her  fallen 

head, 
Peiceived    the   waving   of   his   hands 

that  blest. 

Then,    listening    till    those    armed 

steps  were  gone, 
Rose    the    pale    Queen,    and    in    her 

anguish   found 
The    casement:    "  pcadventure,"    so 

slie  tl'ought, 
"  If    1    might   see   his   face,    and    not 

be  seen." 
And   lo,   he  sat  on   horseback   at  the 

door! 
And  near  him  the  sad  nuns  with  each 

a  light 
Stood,     arul    he     gave    them    charge 

about  the  Queen, 
To    guard    and    t()^ter    her    for   ever- 
more. 
And  while  he  spake  to  these  his  helm 

was  lower'd, 
To  which  for  crest  the  golden  dragon 

clung 
Of    Britain;   so   she    did    not   see    the 

face, 
Which    then   was   as   an   angel's,    but 

she  saw, 
Wet  with   the  mists  and   smitten  by 

the  lights, 


The  Dragon  of  the  great  Pendragon- 

ship 
Blaze,  making  all  the  night  a  stear 

of  fire. 
And  even  then  he  turn'd ;  and  more 

and  more 
The  moony  vapor  rolling  round  the 

King, 
Who  seem'd  the  phantom  of  a  Giant 

in  it, 
Enwound  him  fold  by  fold,  and  made 

him  gray 
.And    grayer,    till   himself   became   as 

mist 
Before   her,   moving   ghostlike   to  his 

doom. 

Then   she  stretch'd   out   her  arms 

and  cried  aloud 
"Oh  Arthur!  "  there  her  voice  brake 

suddenly, 
Then  —  as    a    stream    that    spouting 

from  a  cliff 
Fails  in  mid  air,  but  gathering  at  the 

base 
Re-makes  itself,  and  flashes  down  the 

vale  — 
^Vent  on  in  passionate  utterance: 

"  Gone  —  my  lord! 
Gone  thro'  my  sin  to  slay  and  to  be 

slain ! 
And  he  forgave  me,  and  I  could  not 

speak. 
Farewell?     I    should    have    answer  d 

his    farewell. 
His    mercy    choked    me.     Gone,    my 

lord  the  King, 
My  own  true  lord!  how  dare  I  call 

him  mine? 
The  shadow  of  another  cleaves  to  me, 
And  makes  me  one  pollution :  he,  the 

King, 
Call'd   me  polluted  :   shall   I   kill  my- 
self"? 
What    help   in   that?     I   cannot   kill 

my    sin, 


GUINEVERE 


If  soul   be  soul;  nor  can   I   kill  mj- 

shanie ; 
No,    nor    by    living    can    I    live    it 

down. 
The   days   will  grow   to  weeks,    tiie 

weeks  to  months, 
The  months  will  add  themselves  and 

make  the  years, 
The  years  will  roll  into  tlie  centuries. 
And   nime   will   ever    be   a   name   of 

scorn. 
I  must  not  dwell  on   that  defeat  of 

fame. 
Let    the    world    be;    that    is    but    of 

the  world; 
What    else?    what    hope?     I    think 

there  was  a  hope, 
Except  he  niock'd  me  when  he  spake 

of  hope ; 
His  hope  he  call'd   it;  but  he  never 

mocks, 
For    mockery    is    the    fume   of   little 

hearts. 
And  blessed   be  the  King,  who  hath 

forgiven 
My  wickedness  to  him,  and  left  me 

hope 
That  in   mine  own  heart  I  can  live 

down  sin 
And    be    his    mate    hereafter    in    the 

heavens 
Before    high    God.     Ah    great    and 

gentle  lord, 
Who  wast,  as  is  the  conscience  of  a 

saint 
Among    his    warring    senses,    to    thy 

knights  — 
To  whom  my  false  voluptuous  pride, 

that  took 
Full     easily     all     impressions     from 

below, 
Would  not  look  up,  or  half-despised 

the  height 
To  which  I  would  not  or  I  could  not 

climb  — 
I  thought  I  could  not  breathe  in  that 

fine  air 
That  pure  severity  of  perfect  light 


381 


I  yearn 'd  for  warmth  and  color  which 

I   found 
In   Lancelot  — now  I  see  thee  what 

thou  art. 
Thou  art  the  highest  and  most  human 

too, 

Not  Lancelot,  nor  another.     Is  there 

none 
Will  tell   the  King  I   love  him   the' 

so  late? 
Now  — ere  he  goes  to  the  great  Bat- 
tle? none: 
Myself  must  tell  him   in   that  purer 

life, 
But  now  it  were  too  daring.     Ah  my 

God, 
\Vhat  might  I  not  have  made  of  thy 

fair  world. 
Had  I  but  loved  thy  highest  creature 

here? 
It   was   my    duty   to   have   loved    the 

highest: 
It  surely  was  my  profit  had  I  known : 
It  would  have  been  my  pleasure  had 

1  seen. 
We  needs  must  love  the  highest  when 

we   see    it. 
Not   Lancelot,    nor   another." 

„        ,  Here  her  hand 

Ijraspd,  made  her  vail  her  eyes:  she 
look'd  and  srw 

'I  he  novice,  weeping,  suppliant,  and 
said  to  her, 

"  Vea,  little  maid,  for  am  /  not  for- 
given ?  " 

Then  glancing  up  beheld  the  holy 
nuns 

All  round  her,  weeping;  and  her 
heart  wa.    loosed 

Within  her,  and  she  wept  with  these 
and  said, 

"Ve   know   me   then,   that  wicked 
one,  who  broke 
The  vast  design  and  purpose  of  the 

King. 


382 


lUVLLS  OF  THE  Kh\G 


0  shut   me    round    with    narrowini; 

nunn<"r\-vv;ill>, 
Meek,  maidens,   from   the  voices  try- 
ing '  shame.' 

1  must   not   scorn   myself:    he    lovrs 

me  still. 
Let  no  one  dream  but  that  he  loves 

me  still. 
So  let  me,  if  you  do  not  shudder  at 

me, 
Nor    shun    tf.    call    ;iie   sister,    dwell 

\\  ith  you  ; 
Wear  black  and  white,  and  be  a  nun 

like  you, 
Fast    with    your    fasts,    not    feasting 

with  your  feasts; 
Grieve  with  your  griefs,  not  grievinj; 

at   your  joys. 
But  not  rejoicing;  mingle  with  your 

rites ; 
Pray   and    be   pray'd    for;    lie   before 

your  shrines; 
Do    each    low    office    of    your    holy 

house : 
Walk    your    dim    cloister,    and    dis- 
tribute dole 
To   poor  sick   people,    richer   in    His 

eyes 
Who  ransom'd  us  and  halcr  too  than 

I; 

End  of  "  The 


And  treat  their  loathsome  hurts  and 

heal   mine  own  ; 
And  so  wea'  out  in  almsilecd  .md   in 

prayer 
The  somber  close  of  that  voluptuous 

day, 
Which  wrought  the  ruin  of  my  lord 

the  King." 


She  said :   they   took  her   to  them- 
selves ;  and  she 
Still   hoping,    fearing   "  is   it   yet   too 

late?" 
Dwelt  with  them,  till   in   time  their 

Abbess  died. 
I'hcn    she,    for   her   good    deeds   and 

her  pure  life, 
And  for  the  pov\er  of  ministration  in 

her. 
And   likew  ise   for  the   hi^  .   rank   she 

had  borne, 
Was  chosen  Abbess,  there,  an  Aiibess, 

lived 
For  three  brief  years,  and   there,  an 

Abbe'.'s,  past 
To  where   beyond   these  voices  there 

is  peace. 


Round  Table.' 


THE    PASSING  OF   ARTHUR, 

That  story  which  the  bold  Sir  I?cdi-  Who  slowly   paced   among  the  slum- 

vere,  bering  host. 

First  made  and  Litest  left  of  all  the  Heard    in    his   tent   tlie   moanings   of 

knights,  tlie  King: 
Tolii,    when   the   man    was   no   more 


"  I    found    Him    in   the   shining   of 
the  stars. 
I    mark'd    Him    in    the    flowering    of 

His  fields, 
Hut   in    His   ways   with    men    1    find 
Him  not. 
For  on   their  march  to  W"stward,      I   uaeed    His  wars,  and   now   I   pass 


than  a  voice 
In    the  white   winder   of   his   age,    to 

those 
With    whom    he    dwelt,    new    faces, 

other   minds. 


Bedivere, 


d  ie. 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR 


O  me!  for  why  is  all  around  us  here 
As  if  some  lesser  god  had  made  the 

world, 
But  had  not  force  to  shape  it  as  he 

would, 
Till    the   ffigh  God   hehold   it  from 

beyond, 
A:id  entt-r  it,  and  make  it  beautiful? 
Or  else  as  if  the  wor'd  were  wholly 

fair. 
But  that  these  eyes  of  men  are  dense 

and  dim. 
And  have  not  power  to  see  it  as  it  is: 
Perchance,  because  we  see  not  to  the 

close ;  — 
For  I,  being  simple,  thought  to  work 

His  will. 
And  have  but  stricken  with  the  sword 

in  vain ; 
And  all  whereon  I  lean'd  in  wife  and 

friend 
Is   traitor  to  my   peace,   and   all   my 

realm 
Reels  back  into  the  beast,  and  is  no 

more. 
My  God,  thou  hast  forgotten  me  in 

my  death: 
Nay  —  God  my  Christ — I  pass  but 
shall  not  die." 


383 


And  fa'nter  onward,  like  wild  birds 

that  change 
Their  season   in   the  night  and   wail 

their  way 
From  cloud  to  cloud,  down  the  long 

uind    the  dre;mi 
Shnll'd;  but  in  going  mingled   with 

dim  cries 
far   in   the  m  onlit  haze  among  the 

hills, 
As  of  some  lonely  city  sack'd  by  night 
When  all  is  lost,  and  wife  and  child 

with  wail 
Pass  to  new  lords;  and  Arthur  woke 

and  call'd, 
"^Vho   spake?     A   dream.     O   light 

upon  the  wind, 
Thine,  Gawain,  was  the  voice  —  are 

these  dim  cries 
Thine?  or  doth   all   that  haunts  the 

waste  and   wild 
Mourn,    knowing    it    will    go    alone 
with  me?" 


Then,  ere  that  last  weird  battle  in 
the  west, 
There     came     on     Arthur    sleeping, 

Gawain   kill'd 
In     Lancelot's    war,     the    ghost     of 

Gawain  blown 
Along  a   wandering  wind,   and    past 

his  ear 
Went  shrilling,  "  Hollow,  hollow  all 

delight! 
Hail,    King!    to-morrow    thou    shalt 

pass  away. 
Farewell!  there  is  an  isle  of  rest  for 

thee. 
And  I  am  blown  along  a  wandering 

wind, 
And   hollow,   hollow,  hollow  all   de- 
light." 


This  heard  the  bold   Sir  Bedivere 
and  spake: 
"  O  me,  my  King,  let  pass  whatever 
will. 

Elves,   and   the  harmless  glamour  of 

the  field; 
But  in  their  stead  thy  name  and  glory 

cling 
To    ail    high    places    like    a    golden 

cloud 
For  ever:  but  as  yet  thou  shalt  not 

pass. 
Light  was  Gawain  in  life,  and  light 

in  death 
Is  Gawain,   for  the   ghost  is  as   the 

man; 
And  care  not  thou  for  dreams  from 

him,  but  rise  — 
I   hear  the  steps   of   Mod  red   in   the 

west, 
And   with  him  many  of  thy  people, 

and  kniahts 
Once  thine,   whom  thou  hast  loved, 

but  grosser  grown 


384 


IDYLLS  OF  THK  KING 


Than  hcathm,  spittlni;  ,it  tlu-ir  vows 

and  tliff. 
Right  well   HI   lu-;iit   tl.i,    knou    tlice 

for  thf  Kinn-  ^ 

Arise,    gi>    forth    and    conquer    as   o. 

old." 

Then    spake    King   Arthur    to    Sir 
Ik'divere: 
■    I  ir  other  is  this  battle  in  the  west 
Whereto    we    move,    than    when    we 

strove  in  youtli, 
And  brak'-  the  petty  kint;^,  and  fou-ht 

with  Rome, 
Or    thrust     the    heathen     from     the 

Roman  wall. 
And  shook  him  thro'  the  north.     IK 

doom   is  mine 
To   war   against   my   people   and   my 

knii^hts.  , 

\'he  kint;  who  tights  his  people  tiKhts 

himself. 
And  they  my  knights,  who  U)ved  me 

once,  the  stroke 
That  strikes  them  dead  is  as  my  death 

to  me. 
\et  let  us  hence,  and   find   or  feel   a 

wav 
Thro'    this    Wind    haze,    which    ever 

since  1  saw 
One  l\ui^  in  the  dust  at  Almesbury, 
Hath    folded    in    tlie    passes    of    the 
world." 

Then  rosp  tlif  Kins;  and  moved  his 
host  bv  ni^^ht. 

And  ever  push'd  Sir  Modred,  league 
by  league. 

Back  to  the  sunset  bound  of  Lyon- 
nesse  — 

A  land  of  old  uphcaven  from  the 
abyss 

By  fire,  to  sink  into  the  abyss  again  ; 

\Vhere  fragments  of  forgotten  peo- 
ples dwelt. 

And  the  long  mountains  ended  in  a 
coast 


Of  ever-shifting  sami,  and  far  away 
The  phantom  circle  of  a  moaning  sea. 
'1  hire    the   pursuer   could    pursue    no 

more, 
And   he  that  (led   no  further  By  the 

King; 
And   there,   that  day  when  the  great 

light   of    heavLH 
Burn'd   at   his   lowest   in   the   rolling 

year. 
On  the  waste  sand  by  the  waste  sea 

they  closed. 
Nor   ever   yet    had    Arthur    fought    u 

tight 
Like   this   last,    dim,    weird    battle   of 

the  west. 
A    deathwhite    mist    slept    over    sand 

and  sea: 
Whereof     the     chil',     to     him     who 

breathed    it,    drew 
Down  with  his  blood,  till  all  his  heart 

was  cold 
With  formless  fear;  and  ev'n  on  Ar- 
thur  fell 
Confusion,  since  he  saw  not  whom  he 

fought. 
For  friend  anC   foe  were  shadows  in 

the  mist, 
And   friend  slew  friend   not  knowing 

whom  he  slew  ; 
And  some  had  visions  out  of  golden 

youth, 
And    some    belield    the    faces    of    old 

ghosts 
Look  in  upon  the  battle;  and  in  the 

mist 
^Vas  many  a  noble  deed,  many  a  base. 
And   chance  an'   craft  and   strength 

m   single   fig.    s, 
And  ever  and  anon  with  host  to  host 
Shocks,  and  the  splintering  spear,  the 

hard  mail  hewn. 
Shield-breakings,     and     the    clash     of 

brands,  the  crash 
Of  battleaxes  on  shatter'd  helms,  and 

shrieks 
After  the  Christ,  of  those  who  falling 
down 


THK  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR 


385 


Loolc'd  up  for  heaven,  and  only  saw 

the  mist ; 
And  sliouts  of  hi-atht-n  arui  tin-  traitor 

kniijhts, 
Oaths,    insult,    filth,    and    nionstrou-i 

blasphemies, 
S'veat,    writhin^s,    an^iii-.h,    hihorinj; 

of  the  lunjis 
In  that  close  mist,  ;ind  dyings  for  the 

li^ht, 
M(jans  of  the  d>  ing,  and  voices  of  the 

dead. 


Last,  as  by  some  one  deathbed  after 
wail 

Of  suffering,  silence  follows,  or  thro' 
death 

Or  death-like  swoon,  thus  over  all 
that  shore. 

Save  for  some  whisper  of  the  seeth- 
ing seas, 

A  dead  hush  fell ;  but  when  the  dolor- 
ous day. 

Grew  drearier  toward  twilight  fall- 
ing, came 

A  bitter  wind,  clear  from  the  North, 
and  blew 

The  mist  aside,  and  with  that  wind 
the  tide 

Rose,  and  the  pale  King  glanced 
across  the  field 

Of  battle:  but  no  man  was  moving 
there; 

Nor  any  cry  of  Christian  heard 
thereon, 

Nor  yet  of  heathen ;  only  the  wan 
wavt 

Brake  in  among  dead  faces,  to  and 
fro 

Swaying  the  helpless  hands,  and  up 
and  down 

Tumbling  the  hollow  helmets  of  the 
fallen. 

And  shiver'd  brands  that  once  had 
fought  with   Rom  •, 

And  rolling  far  along  the  gloomy 
shores 


The   voice  of   dajs  of  ol<l   and    da)s 
to  be. 

Then    >pake    King    Arthur    to    Sir 

Hedivere, 
And  whiter  than  the  iiiivt  that  all  day 

long 
Had   held   the  field  of  battle  wa>  the 

King: 

"  Hearest  thou  this  great  voice  that 

shakes   the   world, 
And  wastes  the  narrow   realm  where- 
on  we  move, 
And  beats  upon  the  faces  r)f  the  dead, 
M)    dead,  as  tho'   the)    had   not  died 

for  me?  — 
O    IJedivere,    for    on    my    heart    hath 

f.drn 
Confusion,    till    I    know    not    \\  hat    I 

am, 
Nor  whence  I  am,  nor  whether  1  be 

King. 
HehoKl,   1  seem  but  King  among  the 

dead." 

1  hen  spake  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere: 

"  My  King, 
King   everywhere!    and   so    the    dead 

have  kings. 
There    also   will    I    worship    thee    as 

King, 
■^et  still  thy  life  i-:  whole,  and  still  I 

live 
Who  love  thee;  but  who  hates  thee, 

he  that  brought 
The  heathen  back  among  us,  yonder 

stands, 
Modred,    unharm'd,    the    traitor    of 

thine  house," 

Then  spake  the  King:  "  Aly  house 

hath  been  my  doom. 
But  call  not  thou  this  traitor  of  my 

house 
Who  iiath  but  dwelt  beneath  one  loof 

with  me. 


386 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KL\G 


My  lioiisr  arr  ratlicr  they  who  suare 

my  v<nvs, 
Yea,    even    wliile    they    hrakf    tlicni, 

own  J  lup  K-liii;. 
And  well  tor  th'T,  s.ninn  in  my  ilark. 

hovir, 
Wlitfi   all   the  inirp(jrt  of  my   throne 

hath  tail'tl, 
That  iiimk   or  ilcai!   thou  hoKii-st  me 

tor   Kin^. 
Kini^  am   I,  whatsoever  he  their  cry; 
And    one    hist   act   of   kin^;hoocl    shall 

thou  sec 
Vet,  ere   I   pass."     And  utterin;;  this 

the  K.ii\i; 
Made    at    the    man:    then    Modred 

smote  his  liege 
Hard   on    that   helm    which    many    a 

lieathen   sword 
Had  beaten  thin;  while  Arthur  at  one 

blou , 
Striking  the  last  stroke  with  Lxcali- 

hu  r, 
Slew  him,  and  all  but  slain  himself, 

he  fell. 


So  nil  day  long  the  noise  of  battle 

roU'd 
AmoiiK  the  mountains  by  the  winter 

sea; 
Until   King  Arthur's  Table,  man  by 

man, 
Had   fall'n  in  Lvonnesse  about  their 

lord, 
King     Arthur.     Then,     beca\ise     his 

wound   was   deep. 
The  bold   Sir  Rcdi-.'erc  uplifted  him, 
And   bore  him  to  a  chapel   nigh  the 

field, 
A  broken  chancel  with  a  broken  cross, 
That  stood  on  a  dark  strait  of  barren 

land : 
On  one  side  lay  the  Ocean,  and  on 

one 
Lay  a  great  water,  and  th.e  tnoon  was 

full. 


'I'hen    spake    King    .Arthur    to    Sir 

Hediver'' : 
"   1  he  sequel   ol   to-dav   unsolders  all 
The    goodliest    fellowship    ot    famous 

knights 
VVhereot     this     world     holds     reiord. 

Such  a  sleep 
They    sleep — the    men    I     loved.      I 

think  that  we 
Shall  never  more,  at  am    future  time. 
Delight     our     souls     with     talk     of 

knighlls    dc-eds, 
Walking  about   the   gardens   and    the 

h.dls 
( )f  Camelot,  as  in  the  days  that  were. 
I     perish    by    this    peopli-    which    I 

made, — 
Tho'    Merlin    sw  are    that    1    shf)ulJ 

come  agaiii 
To  rule  once  more  ;  but,  let  what  will 

be,  be, 
I  am  >o  deeply  smitten  thro'  the  helm 
That  without  help   I  cannot  last  till 

morn. 
Thou    therefore   take   my   brand    Ex- 

calibur, 
Which   was  my   pride:   for   thou   re- 

mcnd)erest  how 
In  those  old  days,  one  summer  noon, 

an  arm 
Rose  up  from  out  the  bosom  of  the 

lake. 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  m\stic,  won- 
derful. 
Holding    the    sword  —  and    how    I 

rowM  across 
And  took  it,  and  have  worn  it,  like 

a  king; 
And,  wheresoever  I  am  sung  or  told 
In  aftertime,  this  also  shall  be  known: 
Hut  now  delay  not:   take  Excalibur, 
And    fling  him    far   into   the   middle 

mere: 
Watch   what   thou  seest,   and   lightly 

bring  me  word." 

Tc  him  replied  the  bold  Sir  Bedi- 
vere: 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR 


387 


"  It  is  not  meft,   Sir  Kina,   to  leave 

tlif-    thus, 
Aidlr-is,  alone,  and  smitten   tliro'  the 

helm  — 
A  little  thin;;  may  harm  a  wouiulcil 

man  ; 
Yet    I    thy    hrst    will    all    prrtumi   at 

full. 
Watch  what  I  set-,  ami  lijjhtly  bring 

thee  wonl.' 

S(i   ^a^i^^;,    from    the   niin'ii   shrine 

he  stept 
And   in   the  mcjon  athuarr  the  place 

fjf  ti)mhs, 
Where   lay  the  miglitv  bones  of  an- 
cient men, 
Old   kninhts,  and   o\er  them   the  s;-a- 

wind  sang 
Shrill,    ihiil,    with    flakes    of    foam. 

He,  stepping  dou  n 
Hy  zig^aK  paths,  and  juts  of  pnitited 

rock, 
Came    on    the   shining   levels    of   the 

lake. 

There  drew  he  forth  the  brand  Tx- 
calibur. 

And  o'er  him,  drawing  it,  the  winter 
moon, 

Brightening  the  skirts  of  a  long 
cloud,    ran    forth 

And  sparkled  keen  with  frost  against 
the   hilt: 

For  all  the  haft  twinkled  with  dia- 
mond  sparks. 

Myriads  of  t(ipa/-lights,  and  jacinth- 
work 

Of  subtlest  jewelry.  He  gazed  so 
long 

That  both  his  eyes  were  dazzled  as 
he  stood. 

This  way  and  that  dividing  the  swift 
mind, 

In  act  to  thrnw:  but  at  the  last  it 
scem'd 

Better  to  leave  Excalibur  conceal'd 


I  lierc    in    the    many-knotted    water- 
flags. 

That  vdiistled  stiff  and  dry  ab<jut  the 

margr-. 
So     strode     he     back     slow     to     the 

uoundid   King. 

'J'hen    spake    King   Arthur   to    Sir 

Bedivere: 
"  Hast    thou    perform'd    mv    mission 

which  I  gave? 
\V  hat  is  it  thou  hast  seen  ?  or  what 

hast  heard?  " 

And    answer    made    the    bold    Sii 

Bedivere: 
"  I    heard   the   ripple   v\  aslu'ng   in    the 

reeds, 
And   the  wild   water  lapping  011   the 

crag." 

To    whom    replied    King    Arthur, 

faint   and    pale: 
"  Thou  hast  bctray'd  thy  nature  and 

t'ly  name. 
Not    rendering    true    answer,    as    be- 

seem'd 
Thy  fealty,   nor  like  a  noble  knight: 
For   surer  sign   had    fnllow'd,    either 

hand. 
Or   voice,    or   else   a    motion    of    the 

mere. 
Tin's  is  a  shameful  thing  for  men  to 

lie. 
"V'et   no\y,    I   charge   thee,   quickly   go 

again. 
As   thou   art    lief   ana    dear,    and    do 

the  thing 
I  bade  thee,  watch,  and  lightly  bring 

me  word." 

Then  went  Sir  Bedivere  the  sec- 
ond time 

Across  the  ridge,  and  paced  beside 
the  mere. 

Counting  the  dew^  pebbles,  fi.v'd  in 
thought; 


388 


iUVi.!-S  OF    111.'.   KING 


But  when  he  saw  the  uon.lrr  nt  the 

hilt, 
How  ciirioiiNly   ;iiicl   ^tiaiind)    ih.iM'l, 

he  stunt' 
His    palms    tiincttirr,     ami     lit     cried 

aloud : 

"And    if   iii.li-eil    I    ^a^t   the   hr.md 

au  ay, 
Surely  a  priiinM-.  tiling,   one   ivorthy 

note, 
Should   thus  he   Inst   tdrcvir  friini   tlie 

eatlh. 
Which    niinht    liavc    plc.:s(d    tli<'   eyes 

of  many  men. 
What    K"0'1    should     iollow     this,    it 

this  were  done? 
What    harm,    undone '     1  )eei)    harm 

to    (liMibev, 
Seeing  obeilieme  is  the  bond  ot   rule. 
Were  it  uell   to  nhey  tlitti,   il  a  kini; 

demand 
An     act     unprofitable,     .i;;ainst     him- 
self? 
The    Kin",:    is    siik.    and    Iciious    not 

what   he   dies. 
^^'hat    neon'        -    v\liat    relic    of    mv 

lord 
Should    be    to    aftertime,    but    empt\ 

breath 
And    rumors  of  a  doubt?      Hut   were 

this  kept. 
Stored     in     some     treasure-luiuse     of 

inighty  kinps. 
Some  one   nu'ght  sho\\'   it   at  a  joust 

of  arms, 
Sayinj:,    '  Kin^   Arthur's    sword,    l.\- 

calibur, 
Wri)uj;ht  by  the  lonelv  maiden  of  the 

Lake. 
Nine  years  she  \\rnu;jlit  it,  sitting  in 

the   deeps 
Upon    the   hidden   bases  of   the   lulls.' 
So  might  some  old  man  speak  in  the 

aftertime 
To  all  the  people,  uinnin;;  reverence. 
But    now    much    honor    and    much 

fame  were   lost." 


^o  spake  he,  clouded  with  his  own 

cotiieit, 
.And   hid    K\  i.libur  the  second   time, 
And    so    strode    back    jlow    to    the 

bounded  King. 

1  hen   spoke  KinR  Arthur,  breath 
ini;  heavily: 
"  What  is  it  thou  hast  seen?  or  what 
h.tst    heard  ?  " 

And    answer    made    the    bold    Sir 

Hedivere : 
I    heard    the   water   lapping  on    tlic 
cratr. 
And    the    bint:   ripple   washinj;  in    the 
reeds." 

'I'o    whom    replied     Kint;    Arthur, 

much   in  w  rath  : 
.Ah,   miserable   and    unkind,   untrue, 
I   nknitihtlv,  traitor-hearted!     Woe  is 

me! 
.\utliorit\'    for^^cts   a   dvin;.;  king, 
I  aid    widow 'd    of    the    power    in    his 

eye 
That     bow'd     the    will.      I    see    thee 

M  hat  th<>n  .\''. 
lor    thou,    the   latest-left   of    all    my 

kniu'lits. 
In    whom    should    meet    the   offices   of 

all. 
Thou     woiildst     betray     me     for     the 

precious   hilt; 
I'.itlier    from    lust   of   gold,   or   like   a 

girl 
\  aluini:    the    giddy    pleasure    of    tlic 

e\es. 
'^'et,    for    a    man    ma\'    fail    in    duty 

tw  ice, 
.And   the  third   time  ma\-  prosper,  get 

thee  hence : 
But,  if  thou  spare  to  fling  Excalibur, 
I    will   arise  and   slay   thee  with   my 

hands." 

'I'b.en    cpiickly    rose    Sir    Hedivere, 
and    ran. 


T\   K  i\\SS|.\(,  oi'  ARIIU  R 


389 


And,  Irapinii;  ilowti  the  rId-'-s  lightly, 
pllln^;(•(i 

Anions      th-      hrlrush       hcds,       and 
clutih'd    tlif   SMcrd, 

And    stMliuly    "liri'lM    and    flircu     it. 
The  urcat   hrand 

Made   linhtniriKs   in    tli<-  splcndr.r   ot 
the  ni<  )n, 

And    flashiiij;   round    an.l    roiiiul,   and 
whirl 'd  in  an  arch, 

Shot  like  a  strranicr  ot   thr  northcin 
morn, 

^ecn   where  the  niuvin^  ides  ul   u  in- 
ter shock 

By   nii^ht,   witli   noises  ot   tlie   North- 
ern  Sea. 

So   dash'd   ;ind    tell   the   luand    Kxcal- 
ihur : 

Hut  tr-  he  dipt   the  s'lrtace,   rose  an 
arm 

Clothed  in  white  samite,  myotic    won- 
derful. 
And    caught    him    hy    tiie    hilt,    ami 

brandisii'd   him 
Three  times,  and  drew   him  under  111 

the  mere. 
And    lightly    went    the    other    to    the 
King. 

1  hen  spoke  Kin^  Arthur,  drawm;; 

thicker   breatli: 
"  Now   sec   I    by   tliine   eyes  that   this 

is  done. 
Speak    out:    what    is    it    thou    hast 

heard,   or   seen  ?  " 

And    answer    made    the    hold    Sir 

Hedivere: 
"  Sir  King,  I  closed  mine  eyelids,  lest 

the  gems 
Should  blind  my  purpose,  fur  I  never 

saw, 
Nor  shall  see,  here  or  elsewhere    till 

I  die. 
Not  tho'  I  live  three  lives  of  mortal 

men, 
So  great  a  miracle  .is  yonder  hilr. 


'1  hen    uith    both    li.inds   I    Hung   him, 

W  lieelin;;    liiin  ; 
M'.t   uheii    1    look  d   a-.iin,   behold  ai) 

..nil, 
Hothed      in      \ilnte     s;uiiite,      mystic, 

wonderful. 
That    caught    him    b;     the    hilt,    and 

br.iiu'sh'd  him 
Three  times,  and  drev.    him  under    in 

the  mere." 
And    ansutr    made    Kin;;    .Arthur, 

breathing   hari'  : 
"  M\   end  draws  nigh;  'tis  time  that 

i    w  ere   gone. 
Make  broad   thy  shoulders  to  receive 

my   weifjlit. 
And   bear  ine   to  the   margin;   ,et    I 

fear 
-My    \Miiind    hai:i   taken  cold,   and    I 
sli.ill   ,lie." 

So   saying,    from    tl.e   p.ivf,i<ent    he 
half    rose, 
Slouly,    uith    pain,    riclining    on    his 

arm. 
And  looking  w!stfu!l>   with  «iJe  blue 

e\es 
As   in   a   picture,      flim   Sir   Hedivere 
Ren.orsefiilly       regarded       thro'       his 

tears, 
And     would     hav     .spoken,     but     he 

found   not   words; 
I  hen    took    w  ith    care,    and    kneeling 

on   one   knee, 
*  )'er  both  his  shoulders  drew    the  lan- 
guid   hands, 
And   rising  bore  him   thro'  the  place 
of   tombs. 

Hut,    as    he   walk'.l,    Kiig   Arthur 

panted  hard, 
Like  one   that   feels  a  nightmare   on 

his  bed 
When    all    tiie    house    is    mi'te.     So 

sigh'd   the  King. 
Muttering    and    murmuring    ar    his 

car,   "Quick,  quick! 
I  fear  it  is  too  late,  and  I  shall  die." 


390 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING 


But    the   other   swiftly    strode    from 

ridge   to   riilge, 
Clothed  with  his  breath,  and  looking, 

as  he  wallc'd, 
Larger    than    human   on    the    frozen 

hills. 
He  heard  the  deep  behind  him,  and 

a  cry 
Before.     His    own     thought     drove 

him  like  a  goad. 
Dry   clash'd    his   harness    in    the    icy 

caves 
And   barren   chasms,   and   all   to  left 

and  right 
The   bare    black    cliff   clang'd    round 

him,  as  he  based 
His  feet  on  juts  of  slippery  crag  that 

rang 
Sharp-smitten  with  the  dint  of  armed 

heels  — 
Atid  on  a  sudden,  lo!  the  '  vel  lake, 
And   the   long   glories  of   tiie  winter 

moon. 

Then   'aw  they  how  there  hove  a 

dusky  barge, 
Dark  as  a  funeral  scarf  from  stem  to 

stern, 
Beneath    them. ;   and   descending   they 

were  ware 
That  all   the  decks  were  dense  with 

stately   forms, 
Black-stnled,     black-hooded,     like     a 

dream  —  by   these 
Three  Queens  with  crowns  of  gold : 

and   from  them   rose 
A  cry   that  shiver'd   to   the   tingling 

stars, 
And,  as  it  were  one  voice,  an  agonv 
Of    lamentation,    like    a    wmd    that 

shrills 
All  night  in  a  waste  land,  where  no 

one  comes, 
Or  hath   come,  since  the  making  of 

the  world. 

Then    murmur'd    Arthur,    "  Place 
me  in  the  barge." 


So  to   the  barge  the>-  came.     There 

those    three   Queens 
Put  forth  their  hands,  and   '.ook  the 

King,  and  wept. 
But  she,  that  rose  the  tallest  of  them 

all 
And   fairest,  laid  his  head  unon  her 

lap. 
And  loosed  the  shatter'd  casque,  and 

chafed  his  hands, 
And    call'd    him    by   his   name,    com- 
plaining loud. 
And   dropping  bitter  tears  against  a 

brow- 
Striped  with  dark  blood :  for  all  his 

face  was  white 
And  colorless,  and  like  the  wither'd 

nidon 
Smote    by    the    fresh    beam    of    the 

springing   east; 
And  all  his  greaves  and  cuisses  d.tsh'd 

with  drops 
Of  onset;  and  the  light  and  lustrous 

curls  — 
That  made  his  forehead  like  a  rising 

sun 
High    from    the    dais-throne  —  were 

parch'd  with  dust; 
(^r,  clotted   into  points  and  hanging 

loose, 
Alix'd     with     the     knightly     growth 

that   fringed   his   lips. 
So   like   a   shatter'd    column    lay    the 

King; 
Not  like  that  Arthur  who,  with  lance 

in  rest. 
From  spur  to  plume  a  star  of  tourna- 
ment, 
Shot  thro'  the  lists  at  (^amelot,   and 

charged 
Before    the    eyes    of    'adies    and    of 

kings. 


Then    loudly    cried    the    hold    Sir 
Bec^ivere: 
'Ah!  mv  Lord  Arthur,  whither  shall 
I  go? 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR 


Where  shall  I  hide  n,y  furchcail  and 

mj-  eyes  ? 
For  now  I  see  the  true  old  times  are 

dead, 
When     every     morning     brought     a 

noble  chance, 
And     every    chance     brought    out    a 

noble  knight. 
Such    times   have   beer   not  since   the 

light  that  led 
The    holy    Elders    with    the    gift    of 

myrrh. 
But  now  the  whole  Round  Table  is 

dissolved 
Which  was  an   image  of   the  might" 
world,  ' 

And  I,  the  hist,  go  forth  companion- 
less, 
And  the  days  darken  round  me,  and 

the  years, 
Among  new  men,  strange  faces,  other 
minds." 


And  slowly  answer'd  Arthur  from 
the  barge: 
"  The   old    order   changeth,    yielding 

place  to  new, 
And    God    fulfils    himself    in    many 

wa>s, 
Lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt 

the  world. 
Comfort  thyself:  what  comfort  is  in 

me.-' 
I  have  lived  my  life,  and  tha       ' 

I  have  done 
May   He  within  himself  make  pure! 

but  thou. 
If  thou   shouldst  never  see  ii,y   face 

again. 
Pray  for  my  soul.     More  things  are 

wrought  by  prayer 
Than       this      world       dreams      of. 

\yherefore,  let  thy  voice 
Rise  like  a  fountain  for  me  night  and 

day. 
For  what  are  men  better  than  sheep 
or  goats 


That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the 

brain. 
If,  knowing  God,  they  lift  not  hands 

ot  prayer 
Both    for   themselves  and   those   who 

call   them   friend.' 
For    so    the    whole    round    earth    is 

every  way 
Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet 

of  God. 
But    now    farewell.     I    am    going    a 

long  way 
With   these  thou   scest  — if  indeed    I 

—  For  all  my  mind  is  clouded  with  a 

doubt  — 
To  the  island-vallev  of  Avilion; 
Where    tails    not    hail,    or    rain,    or 

any  snow, 

Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly;  but  it 
lies 

Deep-meadow'd,     happy,     fair     with 

orchard    lawns 
And    bowery    hollows    crown'd    with 

summer  sea. 
Where  I  will  heal  me  of  my  grievous 

wound. 

So  said  he,  and  the  barge  with  oar 
and  sail 
Moved    from    the    brink,    like    some 

full-breasted  swan 
That,    fluting   a   wild    carol    ere   her 

death. 
Ruffles    her    pure    cold    plume,    and 

takes  the  flood 
With  s\yarthy  webs.     Long  stood  Sir 

oedivere 
Revolving    many    memories,    tiil    the 

hull 
Look'd    one    black    dot    against    the 

verge  of  dawn, 
And   on    the  mere   the  wailing  died 
away. 

But  when  that  moan  had  past  for 
evermore, 


392 


r-YLLS  OF  THK  KING 


The    stlllncGS    of    tin-    ilcail    wurKl's 

winter   dawn 
Amazed  him,  and   hv  ^roan'd,  "  '1  lie 

King  is  K""'-'-' 
And    there\\ithal    tame    on    him    the 

weird   rhyme, 
"  From   tlic    s;redt   deep   to   the   great 

deep    he    goes." 


Whereat  he  slowly  turn'd  anil 
slowly  clonib 

The  last  hard  tootstep  of  that  iron 
-rag; 

Thence  mark'd  the  black  hull  mov- 
ing  yet,    and    crieil 

"  He  passes  to  be  King  among  tlie 
dead. 

And  after  healing  ot  his  grievous 
wound 

He  comes  again;  but  —  if  he  conies 
no  more  — 

()  me,  be  \on  dark  Queens  in  yon 
black    boat, 

Who  shriek'd  and  wailM,  the  three 
whereat    we    gazed 

On  that  high  day,  when,  clothed 
with   living   light. 

They  stood  before  his  throne  in  si- 
lence, friends 


Of  Arthur,  who  sliould  help  him  at 
his  need  .■"  " 

Then    from    the    dawn    it    seem'd 

there    came,    but    faint 
As    from    beyond    the    limit    of    the 

world, 
Like   the   last   echo  born   of   a  great 

cry, 
Sounds,    as    if   some    fair    city    were 

one  voice 
Around    a    king   returning    from    his 

wars. 

Thereat     once     more     he     moved 

about,    and    clonib 
I\v'n    to   the   highest  he   could   climb, 

and  saw, 
Straining    his    eyes   beneath    an    arch 

of   hand, 
Or   thought   he   saw,    the  speck   that 

hare   the    King, 
r>)\\n    that   long   water   opening   on 

the   deep 
Somewhere  far  off,  pass  on  and  on, 

anil  go 
From    less    to    less    and    vanish    into 

light. 
And   the   new  sun   rose  bringmg  the 

nen    year. 


TO  THE  QUEEN 

O  I.OVAI.  to  the  rova!  in  tliN'-elf,  And    London    roll'd   one  tide  of  joy 

And    lo>al    to    th\'    land,    as    this    to  thro'  all 

thee  —  Her      trebled      millions,      and     loud 

Bear      uirness,      that      remeiiiberable  leagues  of  man 

day.  And   welcome!    witness,    too,    the   si- 

When,   pale   as   \ct,    and    fever-worn,  lent  cry, 

fhe    I'rince  The  prayer  of  many  a  race  and  creed, 

Who   scaicc   had    pluckM    his    flicker-  and  clime — • 

ing   life  again  Thunderless  lightnings  striking  under 

From   halfway   down   the  shadow   of  sea 

the  grave,  F'roni   sunset   and  sunrise  of  all    thy 

Past  with   tliee   thro'   tliy   people  and  realm, 

their   love, 


TO  THE  QUEEN 


And  _  that    true    North,    whereof    we 

lately  heard 
A  strain  to  shame  us,  "  Keep  you   to 

yourselves; 
So  loyal  is  too  costly!  frien.is  —  your 

love 
Is  but  a  burthen :  loose  the  bond,  and 

Ro." 
Is  this  the  tone  of  empire?  here  the 

faith 
That   made   us   rulers?   this,    indeed, 

her  voice 
And    meaning,    whom    the    roar    of 

Hou^oumont 
I-rft  mightiest   of   all   peoples   under 

heaven  ? 
What  shock  has  fool'd  Iht  since,  that 

she  should  speak 
So    feebly?    wealthier  —  uealthicr — 

hour  by  hour! 
The   voice   or    Britain,    or   a   sinking 
land. 

Some  third-rate   isle   half-lost   amont; 

her  seas? 
Tbtrt'  ranj,'  her  voice,  when   the  full 

city  pcal'd 
Thee  and  thy  Prince!     The  loyal  to 

their  crow  n 
Arc  loyal  to  their  own  far  sons,  who 

love 

Our  ocean-empire  with  her  boundless 

homes 
For    ever-broadening;    England,    and 

her  throne 
In  our  vast  Orient,  and  one  isle,  one 

isle. 
That  knows  not  her  own  greatness : 

if  she  knows 
And   dreads   it   we   are    fall'n. —  Rut 

thou,  my  Queen, 
Not   for   itself,   but   thro'   thy  living 

love 
For  one  to  whom  I  made  it  o'er  his 

grave 
Sacred,     except     this    ol.l     imperfect 

tale, 
New-(ild,    and    shadowing    Sense    at 

"ar  with  Soul 


393 


Ideal  manhood  closed  in  real  man 
Rather    than    that   gray   king,    whose 

name,   a  ghost, 
Streajtis    like    a    cloud,    man-shaped, 

from  mountain  peak. 
And    cleaves   to   cairn    and    cromlech 

stdl;  or  him 
Of  Geoffrey's  book,  or  him  of  Mall- 

eor's,  one 

Touch 'd  by  the  adulterous  finger  of 
a  time 

That  hover'd  between  uar  and  wan- 
tonness. 

And  crownings  and  dethronements- 
take  withal 

Thy  poet's  blessing,  and  his  trust  that 
Heaven 

Will  blow  the  tempest  in  the  distance 

back 
From   thine  and   ours:   for  some  are 

scared,  who  mark, 
f  )r  u  isely  or  unwisely,  signs  of  stortM, 
Wavermgs  of  ever}'  vane  with  every 

\\md, 

And  wordy  trucklings  to  the  transient 
hour. 

And    tierce   or   careless    looseners    of 

tlie  fnith, 

And   Softness  breeding  scorn  of  sim- 
ple  life, 

Or  Couardice,  the  child  of  lust  for 
gold, 

Or  Labor,   with  a  groan  and  not  a 
voice. 

Or  Art  with  poisonous  honey  stol'n 
from  France, 

And   that  which   knows,   but  careful 

for  itself. 
And    that   which    knows   not,    ruling 

that  which  knows 
To   its  own   harm:   the  goal   of  this 

great  world 
Lies     beyond     sight-     yet  —  if     our 

slowly-grown 
And     crnwn'd     Republic's    crowning 

common-sense, 
That  saved   her  many  times,   not  fiil 
—  their  fears 


394 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  KL\G 


Are    morning    shadows    huger    than  The   darkness   of   that  battle   in   the 

the  shapes  West, 

That  cast   them,   not   those   gloomier  Where    all    of    hi^jh    and    holy    d 

which  forego  away. 


les 


